Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Before sunrise, he’s collecting her.
Rook Slater is big, brutal, and permanently grumpy. By day, he’s a garbage man. By night, he plays hockey and keeps the world at arm’s length.
Until the fated mate bond strikes hard and fast. One look at Kylie Moon—right after his twenty-eighth birthday—and destiny snaps into place.
She’s his.
There’s just one problem.
Her blood is rare—coveted—and the monsters in the shadows want to claim her.
Evil. Elite. Powerful. These are the kind of men who stop at nothing to have what they want.
But Rook Slater doesn’t lose what’s his.
And he certainly doesn’t bend the knee.
He’s good at taking out the trash—and these monsters are next.
Once fate locks in, Rook won’t just fight for the woman he loves.
He’ll kidnap and kill for her
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Rook
She tries to scream.
I see it before I hear it—the sharp inhale, the panic flaring in her eyes as her mouth opens and nothing comes out. Her breath goes ragged, and she twists her arm violently in the fucking asshole’s grip.
But his hold tightens around her wrist. His mind—and those of the two suited gofers with him—is very much focused on getting Kylie into their Escalade that’s parked in her driveway. I shouldn’t be able to hear their thoughts, but I can. Because of her.
“Stop, Kylie,” he says, already annoyed. “We don’t have time for this.”
The sound of her name on his lips is the final line crossed. I’m out of the Suburban before Kane can even pull it to a stop and stride up her driveway.
“Take your hand off her.”
The man freezes. All three men do, in fact.
I’ve never seen these men. I don’t know them personally, but I know e-fucking-nough to know exactly who they work for and why they’re here.
“Rook Slater,” the one with eyes so light they look transparent says. “We heard some rumblings. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.” A faint smile tugs at his mouth. He’s enjoying this. I will fucking kill him.
“This doesn’t involve you,” the man holding Kylie’s arm spits.
“Yeah,” I say evenly. “It does. Because it involves her.”
“She’s coming with us.”
“No. She’s fucking not.” It’s all I say before I make my move. One second, my hand is empty, and the next, I’m behind him, dragging him back by his neck.
She is mine, motherfucker. And no one touches what’s mine.
His grip on Kylie breaks, and my forearm locks around his throat.
And I don’t hesitate then; I yank. Hard.
There’s a sharp crack beneath my arm, and a wet, choking sound leaves his throat. His body jerks once, then goes slack. I hold him there a second longer, just to be sure.
Then I drop his lifeless body to the ground.
Kylie stumbles back, freed from his hold, and shock steals the strength from her legs.
The one with the creepy transparent eyes lunges, but Kane hits him mid-step—muscle crushing bone and the impact sharp enough to echo off the house. The man collapses in a heap, and Calloway has the third man pinned against the Escalade and is landing punch after punch to his face before the man can even register the instinct to fight back.
It’s fucking vicious and violent, but it’s necessary. And at lightning-quick speed, the speed only men like us can utilize, we ensure all three of these motherfuckers won’t be opening their eyes again.
I turn to Kylie. Her wild and terrified gaze finds mine.
“Kylie,” I say as calmly as I can. “We have to go.”
She shakes her head, her body frozen. “What—”
“Now,” I snap, urgency breaking through. “We have to go now.”
She doesn’t move. At this point, I know there won’t be any talking her down or convincing her with words. I can tell by the stiffness in her posture and the rod in her spine and the panic-shakes of her hands.
But we have to go. We have to get the fuck out of here.
I’m going to have to take her. Whether she wants to go or not.
I close the distance between us, and her feet retreat instinctively toward the garage. It breaks my heart to see her this scared, but I have to do what I have to do.
I’m sorry, Ky. Really, I am.
“Rook,” she pleads. “Please. Don’t.”
I step in, pin her arms to her sides, and lift her over my shoulder. She fights me—kicking, twisting, screaming—but I don’t slow down.
“Rook, no!” she gasps. “Put me down!”
I don’t.
Her heart beats faster as my brothers and I take her toward the Suburban with haste.
She screams and fights and cries, and I grind my jaw against the discomfort without slowing my stride.
In this moment, she believes she’ll die at my hands if she doesn’t escape.
What she doesn’t know is how much she’ll suffer under theirs if she does.
Kylie
Wham.
A face slams against the plexiglass before sliding down dramatically, and the brute who sent the poor soul into it skates away while chuckling to his teammates.