Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“Act like we’re old friends, Miss Taylor,” he commands, his voice lightly accented. He sounds Italian.
“Who are you?” I manage to choke out the question when I want it to be a sharp demand.
“What matters is who you are,” he replies smoothly, tucking my phone into his pocket.
I can’t call Rand for help.
I could scream, but this man knows my real identity. He could compromise my new life.
He’s not going to hurt me in the middle of a café. We’re surrounded by tourists in the center of town. There’s no way he could make a move against me without getting arrested.
“I’m here on behalf of my family,” the man continues, as though he’s oblivious to my quiet terror.
He takes out some folded papers. Moving with deft precision, he smooths the creases and lays the damning evidence on the table between us.
It’s a printed article about the flood that killed my parents.
My blood goes cold.
He lifts the paper, revealing a second one beneath it. A younger version of me is printed in black and white. I’m wearing a leotard and fluffy tutu, my dancer’s form perfect as I stand frozen en pointe.
It’s a photo from a small feature in my local paper; it was published before I was placed in foster care.
“What do you want from me?” I meet his black gaze with pleading eyes.
Maybe he’s here to blackmail me. Not that I have any money.
It doesn’t make sense, but here he is, sitting in front of me with clear knowledge of my past.
My throat closes when he flips the page to reveal a third article: arson at my foster home. Evidence of a murder in the burned stables. Three children missing, including a teenage girl.
Karolina Taylor.
“I want revenge,” he answers coolly.
My mind scrambles. Does he know Carter or Brandon?
Both boys ended up in foster care because they didn’t have family willing to take them in. This man is too old to be their childhood friend.
“How do you know?” I whisper.
“I found you through Brandon.”
My heart stops.
This man knows I murdered my first love. After all these years, he’s here to make me pay for what I did.
“I didn’t mean to.”
It’s the same pathetic excuse I tell myself when I can’t sleep at night.
“Whatever you intended doesn’t matter,” the stranger drawls.
“Please. I don’t have any money, if that’s what this is about. I don’t have anything to offer you.”
“This isn’t about money.” He leans forward slightly, menace rolling off him in waves. “This is about Ragnarök.”
Confusion muddles my mind. He’s talking about the Viking myth of the apocalypse. Is he making a reference to the fact that he’s threatening to blow up my new life?
“I don’t understand,” I plead.
He scowls. “You don’t have to understand. All that matters is I know exactly where to find you.”
He shakes his head, rueful. “I try not to harm women. This is your one chance to save yourself. If we meet again, I won’t be so nice.” He flicks his fingers in the direction of the exit. “Run, little lamb.”
He still has my phone. I can’t call Rand.
I don’t waste another second asking questions. The threatening stranger is giving me a chance to evade him. I won’t linger when I’m clearly in danger.
I snap my laptop closed and shove it in my bag. His low laugh follows me as I dart out of the café.
Once I’m on the street, I break into a run.
I have to find Rand. He’s the only person I can turn to for protection.
Even if I were willing to go to the police at this point, that stranger can show them evidence that Karolina Taylor is a killer. I won’t just be deported; I’ll be arrested.
My feet pound the pavement as I race to Rand’s house across town. I’m there in a matter of minutes. I haven’t been sprinting for long, but my brow is damp with sweat.
I slam my fist against the door. “Rand!”
He appears in seconds.
I throw myself into his arms, and the door snaps shut behind me. The lock slides into place.
“What happened?” he asks, voice rough with panic. “Are you hurt?”
I can’t stop shaking. His hands rove over my pebbled skin, attempting to melt the icy shards that score my veins. Cold terror is shredding me from the inside.
“I’m not hurt.” I force out the reassurance. “But there was a man…”
Rand’s arms flex around me in an iron cage. “Where is he?”
I shake my head. “He found me at Brownie Bakehouse. He took my phone. I don’t know if he’s still there.”
“Did he give his name?” His face is like thunder.
“No. But he knows my name. He knows I’m a killer. He wasn’t blackmailing me. He said it was about revenge. He must know…”
I choke on Brandon’s name. I’ve been trying to hide my deepest sin from Rand, but I have to tell him. Maybe he can help me figure out how to get rid of the threatening stranger if he understands why I’m being targeted.