Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Boom! Boom! BOOM!
A violent thunderclap explodes behind me, sharper than anything I’ve ever heard, followed instantly by a surge of blistering heat and pressure.
The ground bucks, my body lifts, and for one weightless moment I’m suspended—before the pavement crashes up to meet me.
Air leaves my lungs in a single gasp. Pain slices through my ribs. Gravel digs into my hands.
A shrill, metallic ringing drills into my ears like a siren that won’t stop.
I try to lift my head, but the world spins.
Smoke curls in front of me, thick and chemical, already burning my throat.
I roll onto my side, blinking against the haze. Gunfire rattles—short bursts, close. People shouting. Tires screeching.
My limbs won’t move fast enough. My thoughts won’t come.
But one echo cuts through the noise:
“I’ll see you again at your funeral.”
Kylie’s voice pierces through the panic, louder than the blast.
She said it with anger, but I hear it now like a prophecy.
A pair of arms close around me, lifting me off the asphalt like I weigh nothing.
I’m pulled into someone’s chest, then shoved into the backseat of a car.
“Down,” a voice barks. “Stay down!”
The door slams shut. Tires peel out, screeching against the asphalt as the car launches into motion.
I taste smoke in the back of my throat, sharp and acrid. I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm the thundering in my ears.
But it’s no use.
I can still feel him—the weight of his hands on my hips, the heat of his mouth at my throat, the pull of him in every hallway shadow we ever slipped into. There haven’t been enough kisses yet, not enough nights tangled in his sheets, not enough stolen moments where his voice dipped low and promised nothing but desire. I try to breathe through the smoke, through the ringing, through the panic, but all I can think about is how easily I could’ve died without ever knowing what it means to be fully his.
And how that’s a huge fucking problem…
I thought I could handle this, that all the layers of protection made it bearable.
I believed that Ryder—his world, his rules, his presence—was something I could survive.
But this isn’t just about danger anymore…
And no matter how much I want to believe there’s a version of him that can keep me safe, there’s no version of me that can keep living like this.
End of Episode 22
How You Say It
EPISODE 23
Autumn
It takes two full days for my ears to recover from the ringing, but it only took two minutes after being assessed by Ryder’s doctor at the estate to finally see that I can no longer be a part of this game.
It’s time for me to take my pieces off the board and walk away without any chance of winning.
I’ve lost, and I’ll never know what the outcome could’ve been if I stayed, but… I can’t do this anymore.
Slipping out of the bed, I place the things I managed to get out of my apartment and stuff them into the suitcase I originally brought to the estate.
I tiptoe to Adeline’s room, ready to tell her goodbye, but she’s sleeping, and I don’t have the heart to wake her up just to say that. I walk over to her desk and pen a note. Then I tuck it into her violin case and press a kiss on her forehead.
Before I can consider any other options, I carry my suitcase downstairs to the garage.
“May I help you, Miss Jane?” The security guard arches a brow.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll be back within twenty minutes, and I’ll need you to step the hell out of my way so I can take my car to the airport.”
“Your car isn’t available right now.”
“Then it better be by the time I get back or we’re going to have a problem.” I turn away from him and head down the main corridor in search of Ryder.
His deep voice echoes off the walls as I near his office doors, and I take deep breaths.
“This is nonnegotiable,” he’s speaking. “I need everything to be as tight as possible, and if there’s any deviation—I need to—”
“I need to talk to you.” I interrupt him as I step through the doorway, unable to wait another minute. “Please.”
He narrows his eyes at me, but he gestures for his men to move.
“Excuse me and Miss Jane for a few moments, please.” He looks at his watch. “We should be done in about twenty minutes.”
It’ll be way less than that…
As usual, there’s never a rebuttal or a reply. They simply obey him without question, without a single thought or worry about whether his next command might put their lives on the line.
He waits until the last man has left before walking to the door and locking it.
“Good to see you’re feeling better, Autumn,” he says. “I won’t need you to do anything this week, given what happened. But next week—”