Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Beau, I can’t lose her,” I told him in between compressions. “I can’t fucking lose her.”
Beau didn’t stop. “You won’t lose her, little brother. I promise.”
But my brother didn’t have the power to make promises like that. My lips fastened against Calliope’s in time with Beau’s compressions.
“Live,” I commanded as I breathed air into her lungs. “Do not give up. You are not that weak.”
Her body shuddered. Not with life but from the force of my brother’s compressions.
Lights flashed from the parking lot. They were not red and blue. Headlights from some car illuminated us on the dock, and they stayed on.
Whether the person in the vehicle saw us or not, I didn’t care. I was both grateful and horrified at the illumination of Calliope’s lifeless body. Her form jerked with each compression, her lips blue, eyes closed, face utterly pale.
“Elliot!” Beau barked.
I jumped, realizing I’d been frozen in the moment, the crucial time when Calliope needed me the most.
I laid my lips against hers again, willing her to breathe on her own. To splutter. To fight.
She was still.
As the rain continued falling, a loud thumping on the wharf made me look up for a split second. Rowan’s horrified expression was illuminated by a flash of lightning.
He didn’t say anything, just watched helplessly as my brother and I attempted lifesaving measures on his sister.
“I have a feeling the ocean might rightly take me as someone who deserves to be punished for my sins.”
The words from that day on the dock echoed in my brain, clashing against the hammering rain, the thud of her limp body as it slammed against the dock from Beau’s compressions.
“I refuse,” I whispered against her mouth. “I refuse to believe that you are being taken from me. You are worthy. Stay,” I ordered. “Breathe.” I fastened my lips against hers. “Live,” I commanded as if it was within my power.
Twenty-Nine
Evermore — Taylor Swift featuring Bon Iver
CALLIOPE
Ihad been wrong. Little Blondie was in fact brave, bloodthirsty, and brazen enough to not only poison me but try and drown me.
Gotta credit the girl for wholeheartedly going after what she wanted.
And what she wanted was Elliot.
In true fashion of her generation, she felt entitled to him and did what had been done for centuries. Blamed the woman.
She blamed me for being with Elliot, and in her twisted, definitely in need of chemical balancing brain, she had been sure that if she murdered me, Elliot would find solace in her arms, and they’d live happily ever after.
Fucked-up fairy tale.
Stranger things had happened, I guessed.
I couldn’t remember a whole lot after I’d stumbled outside. I remembered the rain, the firm, biting grip against my arm. The sneer on Blondie’s face as she dragged me toward the dock, muttering about how Elliot would thank her one day.
She was only able to drag me because she had drugged my water. She’d been planning, for a while, it seemed. My demise. She’d offered to help Elliot behind the bar, which meant she had refilled my water. I had been too complacent to even notice the jug she used for me wasn’t used to fill anyone else’s glasses. Apparently, she was some sort of chemist because I hadn’t tasted the poison.
Aconitine. Tasteless. Lethal in certain doses. It first muddled the brain then weakened the limbs. Hence her being able to lug me to the dock.
I’d struggled, but I was so weak, it was a laughable amount of effort. I hadn’t even truly understood what was going on until she pushed me into the water without fanfare.
I’d sank into the depths of the ocean, the coldness shocking me into awareness for a handful of seconds. I’d fought then, kicking my heavy legs upward, gulping for air when I surfaced. Then a wave crashed against my face, forcing me to swallow a lungful of seawater. Once again, I coughed and spluttered for air before I was under again.
My limbs stopped working.
The ocean was judging me. Taking me.
Then came Beau.
He’d emerged just in time to witness Blondie push me into the water. Despite the shitty visibility, he’d seen her and launched himself into the ocean. My unlikely hero.
He didn’t like being teased about it either. Or thanked. Regardless, I’d done my fair share of both. Mostly the former.
Elliot did not share my dark humor about the situation. In fact, Elliot had not smiled the entire three days after I woke up. A record. And I’d tried my hardest, cracking some seriously good jokes. He didn’t seem to think me almost drowning and then going septic from being poisoned was funny.
I did, considering I’d gone up against a whole organization of killers—including one of the deadliest assassins in the business—leaving without a scratch, and it was a twenty-year-old waitress from a small town who had almost accomplished the feat that no man had managed.