Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Father seems to be the only option. He wants something, and I refused to give it to him. Now, he’s trying to persuade me in his own fucked-up way.
I consider what I know. To drug me and kidnap me after graduation took planning and strategy. Is this a team of people? No. Memories filter in. Only one man threw me into the back of that van.
But why am I here?
I can’t imagine this being a ploy for someone to get me out of the way—not if they’ve gone to the obvious trouble of containing me like this. In that scenario, they could just kill me. Way easier. Make it look like a suicide or an overdose. Easy.
Only two people hate me enough to go through this level of trouble. One of them is dead, and the other is in a maximum security mental institution.
I try not to think about the girl who died and her family. It’s a memory laced in bitter anger and pain. I had heard through the masses that the girl’s father committed suicide after my father decimated him in the media, and the mother died soon after from a heart ailment or something.
Part of me always wondered if my father had them killed to get our family name out of the news. That’s what Richard and Patricia are good at: making problems disappear. It’s what they did with Arson and what they will do with Lilian and me if we step out of line.
There’s a click at the door, and I jackknife up, adrenaline pouring through my veins, my muscles burning, my fists clenched at my sides.
I’m ready.
A couple of bangs, clicks, and locks sound on the other side of the door.
Let’s go, fucker.
The door creaks open, swinging out into the dark hallway. A large man stands in the doorframe, his body dwarfing it. I catalog his entire profile. He’s wearing head-to-toe black from the combat boots on his feet to the ski mask covering his face… he’s even wearing a pair of sunglasses beneath it to hide his eyes.
Keeping his identity a secret is clearly important to him. When he doesn’t move closer, I realize he has no intention of getting within arm’s reach of me. He’s not built like my father, who is taller and leaner.
I’m the first to break the silence. “What do you want?”
The man tilts his head to the side like he’s studying me. All I can do is stare back at him, waiting for him to lose his cool.
Let him play his creepy mind games. I’m well-versed in them, too. After a minute, he finally speaks. His voice is low, deep, almost a growl—but even I know it’s merely to disguise his voice. “Who is Aries?”
That’s not even a question. I study him further, trying to find a clue on who this guy could be. He’s too wide in the shoulders, too tall and powerfully built to be one of my crew, and I don’t recognize the set of him from the football field. I’d remember a man bigger than me, especially when I’m used to being the biggest asshole on the field.
Maybe this is my father’s setup. Shit.
We stay this way, staring at each other for a bit until my impatience gets the best of me.
“What the fuck do you want? Is it money? Whatever my father is paying you, I can pay you more.”
He finally steps into the cell, and I shove off the bed, standing to meet him. I could reach out and grab him if I wanted to, but I stop myself and stare straight into the dark, blank eye holes. We’re almost precisely the same height, but his shoulders are wider, more defined, his biceps bigger…all of him is a little bit bigger than me. I’m not entirely sure I can take him.
The man’s head tilts again in a slow, deliberate movement. “Aries. Who is Aries?” he repeats, voice still a low rumble.
I scoff. “What, no ‘good morning sunshine, how’d you sleep’? Not going to lie, you’re really nailing this whole kidnapping hospitality thing. Five stars, all the way.”
There’s no reaction to my sarcastic response, or at least none that I can see. He remains standing like a statue, staring at me through those dark lenses. It’s unnerving as hell, but I refuse to show it.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, all right? You went through the trouble of kidnapping me, so you know who I am. What do you want with me?”
“Aries.” The weird way he says my name makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There’s an intensity there, a weight to that single word. Like it means everything.
I throw my hands up in frustration. “What do you want?”
The man takes another step forward, closing the distance between us. I can feel the heat radiating off his body and smell the faint scent of sweat and gunpowder.