Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
I stared at Kyle’s crumpled figure for a heartbeat longer, then lightly tapped the gas pedal. The truck accelerated slowly, and I maneuvered it with precision over Kyle’s legs. Though the cacophony of the engine masked much of the sound, I could feel the satisfying crunch of bone and flesh beneath us.
“Now he has,” I stated with an icy detachment.
Lindsey broke.
The sob she had been desperately holding back erupted from her throat like a long-suppressed scream, raw and primal. She twisted away as if trying to disappear into the seat, her entire body trembling like it might splinter apart. Rook grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her closer to him, his hand coming down over her mouth yet again.
“Stop fucking screaming,” he ordered calmly.
The look on her face was everything. She’d thought this was a game. They all had. I bet it didn’t feel so funny anymore. I turned the wheel, guiding the truck away from Kyle’s broken frame.
“What next?” Cade asked, still riding his post-hit high.
“DeAndre,” I said simply, scanning the field. “He’s still out here.”
It didn’t take long to spot him, staggering through the field, hunched over, his movements jerky and panicked.
“Cade.” I glanced over at my brother. “Why don’t we give Nick a shot?”
He nodded and passed the bat off with a flourish. “Let’s see what the hockey star can do off the ice.”
Nick took Angela with both hands and a cocky grin. “Please. I’m good at everything I do.” He leaned halfway out the window, tapping the bat once against the truck’s rubber foot mat like he was lining up for a slapshot. “Gimme some speed.”
I hit the gas.
The truck surged forward, headlights lighting him up like the target he was. “Ready?”
“I’m ready,” Nick confirmed, focus zeroed in.
DeAndre’s figure grew larger in the beams, every step a struggle, every breath probably burning in his chest. I adjusted the wheel, narrowing the angle just enough to line it up.
Nick swung—and missed.
“Are you kidding me?” he barked, nearly toppling from the window. “How the fuck did I miss? He’s running like his knees are on backwards.”
“Strike one,” Rook drawled, holding the back of Nick’s hoodie in one hand and Lindsey by the hair with his other.
Nick wasn’t the least bit discouraged. If anything, the miss fired him up. He rolled his neck and regripped the bat. “Alright, let me go again. Perfection takes time.”
My brother laughed. “Ego hurting, Nicky?”
“Suck my dick, Cadet.”
“Sorry, you aren’t my type.”
Nick grinned. “I’m everyone’s type once they get to know me.”
I chuckled and cranked the wheel again, the headlights cutting a new arc through the dark as we circled back.
“Line it up for me,” Nick urged.
I did as he said, knowing Nick wouldn’t miss a hit twice. And he didn’t. Angela slammed into the back of DeAndre’s leg. The scream that followed tore through the field, high and deliciously agonized. He collapsed, folding at the knees and hitting the ground, arms reaching back toward the limb now bent in ways it shouldn’t be.
“You might be good with something besides a hockey stick after all.” My brother joked.
“Told you I’m a pro at everything,” Nick retorted, smug as ever as he handed Angela back with a flourish.
I let the truck idle, creeping forward until we were right behind DeAndre. His sobs were louder now, cutting through the night and blending with the low, steady growl of the engine.
“Time to grab our trophy.” I shoved open the door and stepped out, the cold air scraping over my skin. Around the front of the truck I went, boots crunching over dry grass.
DeAndre was wrecked.
Streams of spit hung from his chin, tears and snot were all over his face, and each breath was a wet, rattling gasp. I crouched beside him, close enough that he had no choice but to look at me. His eyes were wild, pain-glossed, and frantic.
Perfect.
“Ouch.” I reached out and pressed my fingers straight into the break in his leg. He screamed, one hand slapping uselessly at the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does that hurt?” I pressed deeper, feeling the slick give beneath my fingertips.
The second scream was louder, raw and hoarse, tearing through the field. When he turned his head and vomited into the dirt, I flinched back, grimacing at the stench and what looked like half-digested tortilla chips.
“Ew,” Cade groaned from the truck window. “Fucking disgusting.”
“Alright,” I said, standing. “Let’s get you off the ground.”
DeAndre shook his head, babbling through choked sobs. “No—no, please, man—don’t—.”
I grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him up. He was dead weight, one leg dragging uselessly. His hands pushed weakly at my chest, but there was no real fight left in him.
“Quit struggling. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
He whimpered and sagged against me, the last of his resistance draining out. Nick and Cade hopped out and met me halfway, flanking us on either side without a word. Together, we manhandled him to the truck and shoved him inside, right on top of Lindsey. She shrieked, scrambling away like he was contagious, launching herself onto Rook’s lap.