Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
The group quiets as I take a deep breath. A few heads turn. One of the men lights a cigarette, the smoke billowing around him ominously. I don’t smoke, but the nerves buzzing through me are craving one.
I clear my throat and look at the caskets in the ground. No one even bothered to bring flowers. Just two wooden boxes stuffed in the dirt. I don’t know why, but that brings tears to my eyes.
“My name is Erica Rourke,” I say with a lump in my throat. “I was Mace and Knox’s little sister.”
I smooth a hand down my coat, my heart thudding like it wants to run away without me.
“I didn’t grow up with them the way some of you did,” I continue to the cold blank faces staring at me. “We had the same father, god rest his soul, but different mothers. But they were my family, and that always meant something.”
I suck in a slow breath as I glance at the caskets, wondering which one is Knox and which one is Mace. I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I knew who they were in life, why should it be any different in death?
“They were larger than life, my brothers. And filled with a restlessness that I never quite understood.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I power through.
“I hope that restlessness is gone now,” I say, biting my bottom lip. “I hope they’re finally at peace. And I hope they know their little sister came to say goodbye.”
I pick up a handful of dirt as my throat tightens and throw some onto each casket.
“Bye, Knox,” I whisper as a few tears roll down my cheeks. “Goodbye, Mace.”
My aunt crouches beside me and throws some dirt in as well. We walk away, hand in hand, as the men line up to do the same.
I stand to the side, pretending I don’t feel the heat of unwanted stares on my skin.
I feel a pair of eyes burning into me, and I turn my head to see who it is.
Banks.
Shit.
He’s checking me out and not being shy about it. He was always a creep, even when I was thirteen. Especially when I was thirteen. My brothers must have warned him to stay away, but who’s going to warn him now?
Tall, bony, with a ghoulish smile that never reaches his sunken eyes. He licks his lips when we make eye contact.
My stomach twists. Nausea hits me.
Great.
This is exactly what I need—a creepy wolf shifter hitting on me at my brothers’ graves.
I turn my back to him and focus on my brothers.
There must have been some good in them. Something I can cling to.
I’d like to have something to remember them by, even if it’s to help me remember to follow the light and to stay away from the darkness.
Maybe a tattoo… just a small one?
I feel a tap on my shoulder and I cringe as I turn around and see Banks’ weathered face in front of me. Can this guy just fuck all the way off?
“I always like to get fucked up after a funeral,” he says in his slimy voice. “You want to get fucked up with me?”
I swallow hard, wishing my brothers were here, just for this. Just to tell this asshole to get lost.
“I have plans,” I say in a firm tone.
He grabs my arm, a little too hard. “Break ‘em.”
My aunt Jenny steps up just in time. She never had the luck to be moved away from this place, so she’s tough as nails. “Get fucked, Banks,” she snaps, slapping his hand away. “Let’s go, Erica.”
She turns to usher me away, but I stop.
“I’d like to have Mace’s watch,” I tell Banks. “The silver one he always wore. Do you know where it is?”
His creepy eyes linger on my chest before he slowly looks back up. “Come to the headquarters and I’ll get it for you. And maybe then, we’ll see what happens.”
“Like I said,” Jenny says, pulling me away. “Get fucked, Banks.”
I don’t see the rest of it—the caskets getting buried. I don’t need to see that part.
I don’t need anything else.
My brothers are gone and I’m still confused on how to feel about it.
I’m still a bit of a mess.
We head back to Aunt Jenny’s house where I’m staying for the next couple of days and as we’re passing unfamiliar houses, I wonder how it’s possible that I came from this town.
How I fit in here.
But the only conclusion I can come to, is that I don’t.
This is not the place for me.
And I can’t get out of here fast enough.
CHAPTER THREE
Magnus
Fucking newlymates are the last thing I want to deal with this morning. I grumble as I take a sip of coffee, watching the two lovebirds over my chipped mug. They’re holding hands as they approach the shop, stopping to smile at each other every two steps.