Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“God fucking dammit!” I roar, snatching my phone off the counter. “He has her.”
Scarlet whimpers, and Ellis tries to reason with me. “Atlas, you don’t know for—”
“The fuck I don’t.” I open the app I prayed I’d never have to use, watching with bated breath as her location loads. “That piece of shit has my girl at his hunting cabin!” I roar, shoving my phone into his face.
She’s at his cabin. The very same one I looked for him at not so long ago. He has her and is doing God knows what to her... to our baby.
A haze of red clouds my vision as anger unlike anything I’ve ever known pulses through my body like a tsunami headed for shore. “I'm going to fucking kill him,” I hiss through gritted teeth as I grab my keys and shove them into my front pocket before grabbing my gun from the safe.
“Slow down, man,” Ellis says, stepping into my space
“Move.” I clench my jaw so tightly that my molars grind together as I press forward, but he stops me with a palm to my chest, pushing me back.
“Let me call it in, Atlas.” His eyes beg me to see reason, but reason went out the window the second Scarlet told me Nora was gone. “Let’s do this right.”
“He. Has. Her.” I shove him back, fully prepared to lay my best friend out on his ass if need be. “Now get the fuck out of my way or—”
“Go.” He sighs, stepping back. “But, Atlas, I'm still calling it in.”
I toss a hand up over my shoulder in acknowledgment as I race to my truck.
I crank the engine and slip my gun into the center console before tearing down the driveway like the devil himself is after me. But that’s not right—it’s me who’s after the devil, and I’m going to send that miserable son of a bitch back to hell permanently.
I’m coming, Pip…
CHAPTER 39
NORA
Oh my God, my head. I lift my arm, only to find I can’t move it. I try again, jerking harder this time, but it’s no use.
Why can’t I move my arms?
My breathing grows ragged, each inhale like sucking in needles, as I try to take stock of my body. I’m upright—mostly—on something solid. A chair, maybe, and my arms seem to be bound behind me.
Question after question floods my brain. Where am I? Why am I restrained? Why does my head feel like someone beat me with a bowling ball? Is my baby okay?
I wince as I try to open my eyes, but it’s no use. Between the ringing in my ears, the excruciating pain radiating from my forehead, the discomfort pulsing through my shoulders, and the bright light overhead, I can’t seem to get my bearings.
Think, Nora! I was with Scarlet… hair, nails, barbecue, and—Rand!
Panic unlike anything I’ve ever felt before flares to life inside of me as reality sinks in, rendering me completely motionless as the memory of Rand taking me flashes behind the back of my eyelids like a highlight reel of horrors.
Just stay still and maybe he won’t realize you’re awake. I strain to listen out for him, but the only thing I hear is the faint dripping of a faucet.
How did this happen? What do I do? What do I do?
When I finally manage to pry my eyes open, my vision swims. I blink once… twice… three times before the small room I’m in comes into focus. It’s sparsely furnished, with no windows that I can see. Most importantly, there’s no sign of Rand.
I escaped this hell once already. I can do it again.
Footsteps sound behind me, and my entire body stiffens as I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I’m still enough and quiet enough, he’ll leave me be for a little longer.
“Wake up, little bitch,” the voice from my nightmares growls moments before ice-cold water sprays me in the face. A scream lodges in my throat as the liquid fills my nose and mouth, making it impossible to breathe, much less speak.
Instinctively, I try to cover my face, but all I manage to do is send myself crashing to the floor. “Stop, please,” I whimper, my wet hair clinging to my face.
Please let my son be okay. Please, please, please. I silently pray, my tears mingling with the water droplets already coating my cheeks, as I try my hardest to twist my body in such a way that offers my belly some protection.
“That's right,” he snarls, the toes of his worn boots coming into view. “Keep begging. Scream, cry, plead, and maybe I'll let you hold the little bastard before I bleed you dry.”
I wish I was strong enough not to give in to him, but I do exactly as he says—I scream and I cry, I beg and I plead. The noises spilling out of my mouth are far more animal than human. “Don't you touch my baby!”