Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
A giddy, mad laugh bubbles through the Jeep, and I increase my speed. Then I see the huge, iron gates ahead. They’re closing. He’s trying to lock me in.
He wants to keep me caged.
Not fucking happening.
The gates are only bracketed by a short brick wall that doesn’t even extend fifty yards on one side. To the left is open countryside. This Jeep is more than capable of navigating the gently rolling hills.
I spin the wheel to the left, racing toward freedom.
My exhilarated laugh morphs into a sharp, short scream when the landscape drops out from under me. I’m airborne for a terrifying instant, and then the hood of the jeep tips downward. Bright green grass fills my view through the windscreen.
Metal crunches, the car horn blares, and pain explodes through my skull before everything goes black.
13
DANE
“Abigail!” I roar her name when the Jeep jerks sharply to the left, away from the closing gates. “NO!”
She doesn’t know that the beautiful landscaping has been cut into a blind fence. The feature keeps troublesome sheep out of the estate while providing an uninterrupted view of the countryside. Instead of an unsightly fence, there’s sharp a ten-foot drop that’s unnoticeable if you don’t know to look for it.
And she’s racing right toward it.
My feet pound the curated lawn, and my heart hammers against my ribcage. I’ll never reach her in time. There’s nothing I can do to stop her. My stubborn Abigail is about to crash the Jeep, and I can’t prevent it from happening. I can’t save her. I can’t protect her.
The disaster seems to happen in slow motion, each horrific moment imprinting on my brain to create nightmares that will last a lifetime. The Jeep is airborne for a split second.
Then comes the crash. The screeching metal. The blaring car horn.
I know what I’ll find when I reach the wreck.
Blood. Death.
I’m as powerless as I was on that terrible night when I was five years old. Another crash, when I was a helpless child.
The sound that tears from my chest is something between a bellow of rage and a wail of anguish.
I can’t lose Abigail.
I won’t.
I refuse to live without her.
I swallow the copper tang of fear that coats my tongue and sprint toward the wreck. Whatever I find at the base of the blind fence, I’ll have to face it head-on. If Abigail survived, she’ll need medical care. She’ll need me.
I can’t allow old memories of long-buried trauma to rise up and consume me. I have to remain grounded in the present.
I have to save her.
She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive.
I’m not sure if it’s a prayer or an irrefutable truth that I’m willing into the world.
I finally reach the blind fence, and acid burns my throat at the sight of the wrecked Jeep. I curse my feckless brother for his carelessness in leaving his keys where she could easily find them. And for his foolish taste in vintage vehicles that lack modern safety features like airbags. A sensible car would’ve protected her from the worst of the damage, but this aged behemoth could’ve crushed her delicate body.
I leap off the blind fence and barely feel the pain that shudders up my left leg as my ankle twists. I manage to stumble toward her. I can see her lovely face in profile. It’s covered in blood, and she’s slumped over the steering wheel. Her eyes are closed. She’s not moving.
Adrenaline increases my strength, lending me the leverage I need to wrench open the door. It screeches in protest, but I manage to get to her.
“Abigail. Abigail. Abigail…” I’m saying her name over and over, but she’s not responding.
Her blood is hot and slick on my hand when I gingerly cup her cheek. My stomach turns in pure revulsion at the gory sight, but I force myself to study her wounds with clinical precision. She’s bleeding heavily from a gash at her hairline. I can’t tell how serious the damage is, but it’s enough to have knocked her unconscious.
“Open your eyes, Abigail,” I command. “Look at me.”
But she doesn’t obey.
The longer she remains unconscious, the higher the likelihood of brain damage. She could have a fractured skull. Internal bleeding.
All I can assess now is the fact that she fucking bleeding all over my hands, and she’s as limp as a ragdoll.
I struggle to breathe through the fear that smothers my thoughts.
There’s a pulse at her throat. She’s breathing.
She’s alive.
And she’s going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.
“Dane?” James calls down to me. “Oh, fuck.”
As much as I loathe him in this moment, my voice is rough with desperation when I beg, “Help me.”
With James’ help, I’m able to get Abigail out of the wrecked Jeep and into another vehicle. I keep her gathered in my arms, murmuring reassurances to her as he drives the short distance from the base of the blind fence to the road.