Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
When someone cries out, I start running toward whatever is going on. I’m not a fighter. I’ve never hit another person in my life, and I’ve never been hit either, but I sure as hell can’t keep going as if nothing’s happening.
My stomach rolls with nerves, and I feel like I’m going to throw up as I hurry toward them. When I round the corner, there’s a man on the ground. He looks in his sixties, maybe even older, while three guys who are a lot bigger than me stand around him, kicking and laughing at the old man on the ground.
“Hey! Stop that!” I shout, my voice shaking. For some ridiculous reason, Cillian pops into my head, and I recall him making fun of it the last time I saw him. “Leave him alone!” I tell them, trying to sound scarier than I probably do.
The second they turn on me, my mistake becomes clear. My hands are trembling, breaths coming out in sharp, panting sounds as I pull my cell out of my pocket. It’s probably something I should have done from the beginning, but my first thought had been to see what was happening and try to stop it.
The three men run at me. I fumble my phone, trying to open it and call 911, but all I can do is randomly push whatever pops up on the screen before the first punch slams into my cheek. My glasses fall off. My phone tumbles from my hand, the people in front of me blurry because of my terrible eyesight.
It’s not until the second hit comes that I realize how much it hurts. My whole head throbs, this burning sensation radiating up my cheekbone and into my skull.
I swing my arms, try to hit three moving targets, but it’s not much use. I get a few hits in, but before I know it, I’m on the ground, trying to wrap myself into a ball to protect my head.
It feels like my body is on fire. Like my stomach explodes when a foot sharply stabs into my gut.
I’m going to die out here. They’ll kill me, and probably the other man too, all because I wasn’t good enough. Because I wasn’t smart enough or strong enough.
Blood runs into my eyes. I taste it and tears on my tongue, just before I hear, “Hey! Stop that! What are you doing?”
Something else rams into my head, and just before my world goes black, I see an image of my dad. This is going to kill him. It’s my last thought before my world goes black.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cillian
“Why in the fuck is Ollie calling me so late? We’ve only ever texted.” Dean stares at his phone before answering. “Hello.”
He frowns, and Tiernan sits up straighter as if he can read Dean’s expression and knows something’s wrong.
“Ollie?” he says, then, “What the fuck is going on? Answer me.”
“What is it?” I ask, nerves making my skin prickle uncomfortably.
Tiernan tries to take the phone from him, but Dean doesn’t let him. He holds it out and hits the speaker, the sounds on the other end very fucking familiar.
Someone is being hurt. When Ollie’s familiar voice cries out, red flashes in my eyes, my whole body tensing.
“Who the fuck is there? Don’t you fucking touch him. I’ll kill you if you touch him,” Dean seethes into the phone, his rage sharp enough to slice through me.
The sounds of flesh on flesh are clear, gasping and pain coming from Ollie. I shove to my feet as if that will change anything.
“Where is he?” I ask, my voice tight. I open and close my hands into fists, dying to get my hands on whoever is hurting him.
“How the fuck should I know?” Dean barks at me.
“Fucking find him,” I snap. That’s what he does. He knows how to do that shit.
“Hey. Watch your mouth when you’re talking to him,” Tiernan warns.
“Fuck you.” It’s not often I say shit like that to Tiernan, but what are we supposed to do? Sit here and listen to whoever this is kill Ollie? He’s too good for this, for us, and all I can think is, maybe this is happening because of his friendship with Dean. Maybe this is our fault.
“Hey! Stop that! What are you doing?” breaks through the phone, and all of us still.
There’s a lot of yelling, feet hitting pavement, the sound of a car starting, then screeching tires as it peels away.
“Oh shit. Hang on, buddy,” a guy’s voice says.
“Where are you? What’s going on?” I shout, hoping that whoever is there can hear me. If he can, he doesn’t say anything. The sound of his voice gets farther away and harder to make out, but there’s mumbling in the background.
He must be getting closer to the phone because I hear, “I called 911. They’re on the way.”