Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Chloroform.
Panic swelled.
I had to fight.
I had to—
As the rag closed over my face, the last thing I saw was the other guy slamming Liam’s head into the floor.
And everything went blank.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Liam
It was the talking that woke me up.
Usually, at some point in the night, the streaming services went back to that ‘Are you still watching?’ screen, and with no one to click the button, the house went silent.
So hearing voices when my phone said it was just after four in the morning had me sitting up.
Then I was worried it was about Charlotte since she was sick. She had this thing where her fevers went crazy and she would hallucinate.
It wasn’t until I reached the door that I knew it wasn’t Uncle Chris and Alara talking.
I didn’t recognize the other voices.
For a moment, I wondered if maybe it was some of the Costa guys, if they dropped by to talk about whatever job they were obviously working after Alara got beaten up.
But then I heard a crash, a gasping sound, then a whimpering.
I turned and rushed back to my nightstand, grabbing the switchblade my uncle got me. With a strict warning about not using it unless it was necessary.
I figured if someone was in the house hurting people, that was good enough reason in his book.
Nerves jangled, but in a weird, almost exciting way. Like going on a rollercoaster for the first time.
Maybe that was a bad example.
Rollercoasters made me sick.
But that thrill of the drop—that was what this felt like.
It had my heart hammering and my breath going quick. But my mind seemed to sharpen, noticing everything in detail that I was sure I would normally miss.
Like the creaking of the floorboards.
The tick of the clock on my wall.
Something scraping in the other room. Maybe a drawer in the kitchen.
The three distinct voices.
Two men… and Alara.
Where were Uncle Chris and Charlotte?
My guts twisted.
Because I knew no one would be putting their hands on Alara if my uncle wasn’t knocked out or… worse.
No.
I wasn’t letting my mind go there.
I had to focus on Alara.
So I turned the knob, careful not to make a sound, then peeked out of the crack, trying to figure the situation out… and what I could do about it, listening to what Alara was saying to the bigger guy with the rose tattoo on his forearm.
He was glaring at Alara as she lied to him.
Said something about Uncle Chris having the flu.
But he didn’t.
Maybe Charlotte did.
Maybe that’s where he was.
But before I could wrap my head around that, he was up on the couch, walking over it, looming over Alara, then reaching out to grab her face.
I saw the pain slice across her face as he snarled at her.
It wasn’t time to wait for my opening anymore.
I just flew at him, stabbing the knife right into the bicep of the arm crushing Alara’s face in its hand.
It was all a blur then.
Punching, getting punched, pain from both, blood, sweat.
Then a lucky uppercut had the guy falling back into the coffee table.
I didn’t stop to think.
I went right for Alara.
Who was being pinned to the ground by that sick asshole.
Then there was more of it.
Punching, getting punched.
The taste of blood in my mouth.
I’d just gotten the upper hand when a movement stole my focus.
Alara being dragged up by her hair, a sharp hiss escaping her.
I scrambled forward.
But the guy came over me, grabbing the back of my head.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was a rag pressed to Alara’s face and her body almost immediately going slack.
I woke up with my heart hammering almost as hard as the pain in my head.
There was just a moment of confusion.
Why was I on the floor?
Why was I in pain?
Why did I taste copper?
Then it came back in a wave, crashing over me, pulling me under.
The intruders. The knife. Alara. The fight. Alara again. More fighting. Watching Alara pass out from what had to be that chloroform crap they used in movies. A split second of pain. Then the blackness.
I shot up, ignoring the way my head and vision swam as I looked frantically around.
But Alara and the two guys were gone.
The hall door was closed.
They took her.
They knocked her out and took her.
Pain pulsed through my hands, my shoulder, my ribs, my head.
But I ran back to my room, grabbing my phone and dialing with frustratingly shaky fingers as I ran back out of the room and stopped at the closet.
Because I remembered something Brio said at dinner when we were over there. About how the movies got it wrong when people got knocked out. That at most, it lasted a minute or two, no longer. So they couldn’t have gotten too far with her. Maybe if I was quick enough, I could catch up to them.