Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
It's a good thirty feet down. I hit the light on the stairs that go straight down on a ladder. When my feet hit the ground, I see a small girl tied to the chair that's bolted to the floor.
Fucking hell. She still has on her school uniform. The checked skirt with the white polo is such a contrast to everything. Slowly, I creep around to the side of the room.
"I know you're awake," I tell her. She'd tensed up the second my feet hit the floor. I pull off my suit jacket, tossing it on the table that is lined with all types of tools before I roll up the sleeves of my button-up. I know I shouldn’t, but I always get an adrenaline rush when I come down here. Yet this time it feels different. Something is off.
A whimper sounds from her, but she quickly sucks in a breath, and I know she's trying to get herself under control. I don't smell any urine. That's new. The first thing most do is piss themselves.
“This can be easy or it can be hard,” I tell the girl. What was her name?
“It feels like it’s going to be both.”
My fingers pause over the crowbar. Her voice is delicate but sweetly smoky. It gives me pause not only because of that but because I actually thought that. I turn back around, and in two long strides I’m in front of her. Bright blue eyes meet mine.
Oh, this girl is fucked.
She’s also all mine.
Chapter Two
BLAIR
Iblink, trying to adjust to the dim light that took away the pitch-black. My eyes burn with tears, but I try to push them back. Crying leads you nowhere in life. I learned that lesson years ago. But I hate the darkness.
I wasn't always that way, but when life pushes in and it's the only thing that cloaks you, you appreciate the light a whole lot more, and you never want to go back, scared it will consume the rest of you. The heavy steps make me flinch with each one, not sure what is coming next. At least I'll get to see it coming this time.
I sharply inhale when I meet the eyes of Eros Marino.
One might think it’s because I’m scared out of my mind, but that’s not the only reason. He is stunningly handsome in person.
What the fuck, Blair!? We hate the Marinos. How could I not after I tried to help but all that got me was getting knocked around, drugged, and now put inside of a creepy-ass room? The smell of dirt and bleach with a dash of something metallic fills the stale, thick air.
Metallic? Oh shit. Blood. That’s what I smell. It’s freaking blood and bleach. I believe those two items are at the top of a list for a murder room; the only thing missing is plastic to line the floor, but perhaps it isn't necessary. Not when I see the drain that’s been installed.
Eros stares at me, and I stare right back. I've never met him. Of course I know of him. I'm friends with Kinsley, who is in deep with one of his brothers. It's difficult to keep track of all the Marinos; there are so many of them, and I didn't grow up in this city. I learned about them the old-fashioned way: gossip.
Plus, Damon, who is Eros's brother, and I have a bit of an understanding or maybe appreciation for the other. We at times will feed each other information. That's how Damon is. He seems to know everyone and everything, and he reports back to his other brother, Jax. Fucking Jax. Really, it's all his fault. Okay, it might be Kinsley's too, but why blame her when I can blame him?
Then again, maybe I don't much like her anymore either. Where is she right now? I had her back. I fucking killed someone for her. All right, I admit that I might have killed him for my own reasons as well, but the dipshit, also our freaking teacher, who kidnapped us intended to kill me first. I didn't know a small shove down stairs would instantly kill you. I'll keep that in mind for next time. Maybe I won’t push so hard if I’m ever in that situation again—or maybe I will.
"Are we having a staring contest?" I finally speak when he doesn't. This must be some intimidation tactic. He doesn't answer; his head only cocks to the side slightly. I can tell that I’ve surprised him a bit with my response. "Well, I love true crime podcasts—not the ones about my life, but that's for another day. And don't think because you're all quiet I'll start spilling all my secrets to fill the silence," I tell him before pressing my lips together to help myself stay true to that.