Total pages in book: 193
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
The rustic house, which is bigger than I imagined, sits about a thousand feet away with rolling hills behind it and the Cold Peaks looming even farther away in the distance.
We wait for a few minutes while the sheriff speaks to someone over the call box. A few seconds later, the gate slowly parts with a mechanical whir and we’re driving through. My arm shoots out to grab Khalil’s hand that’s dangling over the cupholder, and he gives mine a squeeze in return that says he’s here.
He’s got me.
I didn’t expect him to comfort me since he’s clearly pissed at me for putting myself in this position, but I’m even more surprised that I doubted him. The first thing I fell in love with about Khalil is his unerring loyalty.
As we get closer to the house, more of the characteristics that were obscure when we first arrived become distinct.
What if my plane had never crashed, and I’d arrived here three months ago?
Once my resentment and anger at being exiled eventually faded, I would have found peace in the solitude. I might have even come to enjoy the view. I can almost imagine myself relaxing on the wraparound porch with my bare feet propped on the railing as I sip from a steaming cup of coffee and admire the beauty of the snowcapped mountains that belong in a painting.
Never once guessing that my destiny lay within those peaks.
After a few months away, once the world began to crave Aurelia George—flaws and all—my uncle would have shattered my peace and whisked me back home to give the people what they wanted. And I would have gone back never having known them. My mountain men.
But no, that’s not right either. Because if my uncle had his way, I never would have made it home at all. Rather than wait for the world to change their hearts, his plan all along had been to send the death squad after me and preserve what was left of my image and my legacy while he could.
I wonder how they would have done it.
Finnegan said they were supposed to make it look like an accident. As we inch toward the house, my gaze catches on the paddock not far away and the horses grazing inside it.
Crushed by a temperamental mare perhaps?
One thing was for certain, this house—as alluring as it may be—wasn’t my home.
It was my grave. My final resting place.
We’ve only been gone a few hours, but even now, my heart longed for the cabin and all of its simplicity.
Khalil and the sheriff park their trucks, but I don’t move and Khalil doesn’t kill the engine. I just stare straight ahead while Khalil waits silently, ready to drive us away if I give him even the smallest sign that I’m not ready to face my uncle.
After a few minutes, I sigh and the small sound from me is enough to break Khalil’s silence.
“We doing this, Goldilocks?” His glare is fixed on the house through the windshield as if he can see my uncle through the stone walls.
“Yes. I have to do this.”
He’s careful not to react and nods instead. “Okay.”
Khalil reaches under his seat and pulls out a handgun. He checks the clip before reaching behind him and shoving it in his waistband. He looks at me once he pulls his shirt over it and gives me a crooked smile once he finds me watching him. “Just in case.”
“We’re not killing my uncle, Khalil. At least not today.”
“No promises,” he says before he opens his doors and steps out.
I don’t wait for Khalil to come around and open my door because if I don’t get out of the truck now I never will, so I quickly unbuckle my belt and practically fly from the seat.
The sheriff steps out of his truck too, and none of us say a word as we make our way to the front door. The luxury car parked outside is obviously a rental, but it has my uncle written all over it. He always has to put on a show wherever we go. The reminder that I was funding his lifestyle and all of these luxuries, and that I have done so half my life, fuels me up the stairs and onto the porch.
Khalil keeps his rigid body in front of mine, keeping me from view and harm like a shield that will never bend, break, or fold. My stomach turns knowing my uncle won’t miss it and will do everything in his power to test and batter my defenses.
The three of us reach the door, and the sheriff knocks. Almost immediately, I hear footsteps approaching on the other side. I can’t see thanks to the immovable wall of flesh and muscle in front of me, but judging by the voice, it’s a woman who answers the door. She lets us inside after the sheriff asks for my uncle, and then we’re left alone in the foyer while the woman I assume is a housekeeper disappears into the house to fetch my uncle.