Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Have it your way, princess,” I grunt, breaking through the last of the shitty welds and popping the ceiling hatch out, opening us to a whole world of potential. “But I’m getting out of here. Feel free to take your chances on your own.”
With that, I reach up and grab the frame of the manhole and pull myself up into it, leaving Aria to fend for herself as I disappear above.
“FUCK!” she grunts, pacing the small room, clearly not enjoying any of her chances, but she knows damn well that if she stays behind, her ending is going to be far worse than the one I have in store for her. “Wait. I’m coming.”
8
ARIA
When I arrived at Hartley Creek this morning, the worst thing I thought I would have to deal with was the pile of projectile vomit I left in the parking lot. If someone told me I would be spending my day crawling through an old manhole as an almost-hostage with a convicted murderer who’s attempting to break out in the middle of a riot, I’d commit myself to the psych ward, because there is no way in hell this shit could be real.
I mean, what the ever-loving-fuck?
My cami is torn to shreds. There’s blood splattered all over me. I’ve stolen a gun from a guard. Killed a man who was determined to rape me. Watched a psycho-killer easily take down at least fifteen men. Helped Stone Blackthorne tear a rapist’s throat out. Had my stolen gun stolen from me. And now I’m helping said psycho-killer stage what could only be described as the most spontaneous bullshit breakout in the history of all prison breakouts.
Complete insanity.
We crawl through the ceiling space, and the amount of dead rat carcasses and spiderwebs that touch my body is absolutely unacceptable. I have a line, and touching dead rats goes far beyond it. Not to mention, there’s a horrendous smell that no member of the vagina squad should ever have to endure. And this right here . . . This one is right at the top of the list.
“What the fuck is that smell?” I whisper-yell to the murderous asshole who’s crawling up ahead.
“Figured that was you,” he mutters, not even bothering to glance back to make sure I’m keeping up with him. “You always had a nervous gut. Must have shit yourself when that asshole had you by the leg.”
My jaw drops. He did not just accuse me of shitting myself. But more than that, how does he know I’ve always had a nervous gut? Though it’s not so much of a nervous thing as it is a lactose intolerance thing. But that’s my business and my business alone. Nobody knows that about me. He just made a good guess.
“Fuck. You really are an asshole,” I seethe. “And for the record, I did not shit my pants.”
“Right.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, clenching my jaw and shaking my head. How the hell did my big break turn into his big breakout? “You’re gonna get us both killed. You know that, right?”
“Keep moving.”
“I get that you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. You’re just another prisoner, nothing but a problem that a sniper will take out the moment he gets the chance. Especially after going on a murder spree and taking me as a hostage. There’s no way this ends well for you.”
“Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not really. But you’d know that about me, if you actually knew me,” I throw at him. “What’s that all about anyway? Are you just delusional? Been locked up too long that you think the first woman you’ve seen in seven years is some mystery woman from your past? Oh, maybe this Menace has an evil twin who looks just like me. Now I can write a good story on that.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m really going to enjoy ending your life.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “I’ve heard it all before. That’s like the hundredth time you’ve said that. Sounds like you’re all talk and no action. You know, all bark and no bite.”
He ignores me, but what can I say? Pushing buttons is my specialty, and when his buttons were pushed during those three seconds of interviewing that actually happened, that might have been the best fun I’d ever had. Until it all went to shit, of course.
“So, what’s your grand plan to kill me, anyway? Gonna wait until you miraculously get us out of here and then set yourself up with a little bachelor pad? Might I suggest something by the beach? Guess we’re a little far away from that. Oh, I could die via tree impalement because we’ll be on the run, right? You know, just like how Olaf impaled himself on an icicle, only this would be you doing it. Not me. I wouldn’t want to rob you of your big impalement moment. I know how you like murdering things and all that. Though maybe you’re more of a hands guy. Not like cutting them off. More like strangling me kind of thing. You seemed to really enjoy that earlier. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but you were totally getting hard while you were choking me out, right?” I say with a stupid smirk. “Such a dirty little birdy.”