Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Stop!” I scream, the sound so shrill that it bounces through the apartment, and I dive for him. The man I love, the man I was certain had betrayed me, but instead, he killed a person he trusted to protect me and my wrongdoings.
I cover his body with my own as he lands beside his dead partner. My father and my aunty are standing at the door, their guns raised. My father’s hand goes to his arm where he’s been hit, and I’m certain my aunt almost accidentally shoots me as I dive for him. She takes her finger off the trigger as I scoop him up into my arms, sobbing.
Oh God. I did this. I did this. How do I undo this?
“Braxton,” I squeak as I bring his hand to my chest. He’s bleeding in the stomach. It’s bad. So bad.
“Shortcake,” he gasps. “Tell your family to lower their weapons.” He tries to smile at the scissors I’m holding, but I angle his head to only look at me.
“You’re not leaving me,” I say quickly. “You don’t get out of this so easily.”
He tries to chuckle but gurgles in pain instead. Red. There’s so much red.
My aunt and father are speaking to one another furiously, but I ignore them. I can only focus on Braxton as if I’m his anchor to keep him here—alive. I feel like it’s my own life force.
Anya moves closer, pointing her gun at Braxton’s head. “He’s a problem.”
I slap her hand away, quickly scoop the gun that’s loosely held in Braxton’s fingers, and point it at her.
“You ungrateful—”
My father pulls her back. “Anya,” he says as if pointing out something that she hadn’t yet seen. She looks at me and Braxton again, the killer fading from her gaze as she blinks once and then twice.
I wonder how they view me now. I probably look like a feral animal, backed into a corner, fighting fiercely to protect my mate who’s fucking bleeding out all over the floor.
“You’re not a good shot, Shortcake. Lower the gun,” Braxton whispers.
I snap at him. Why is he making jokes right now? This isn’t funny. He’s turning paler by the second.
“I only ever did that, so you didn’t think I was capable of killing, you fucking idiot,” I say on a sob.
“She loves him,” Anya states.
“So fucking what if I do? I’m sure I could find faults with your matchmaking. Just please help me. Please,” I beg my father, a twist of uncertainty rolling in my stomach as his blood drips onto the floor. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father bleed. “Please, Dad. Please.”
Anya clicks her tongue but makes a phone call. My father reluctantly lowers his gun and kneels beside me.
“Did he kill his partner for you?” Dad asks. I’m certain he did. Why else would he go to such extreme measures?
“Can’t we ask these questions later, please? I can’t lose him.”
I lift Braxton’s shirt up and try to look at the bullet wound. I have to stop the bleeding, but I’m not really sure how. I’ve helped my mother patch up my father before, but she does most of the work.
“Fuck,” Dad grits as he stands and goes to the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey and some tea towels.
My aunt throws her hands in the air. “Come on, we’re not the type who can patch things up. We kill people, not fix them.”
“Anya, help me,” Dad grits.
“I’ve called the twins and the doctor. The twins will be here shortly to clean up this mess,” she bites back.
“Stage it.” Braxton is barely able to get the words out as he hisses in pain. I take the alcohol towels from my father’s hands and start to clean his wound. My father can’t touch other people. It physically repulses him, and I’m sure Aunt Anya won’t be any help, so it’s up to me. “In his home like a hanging,” Braxton finishes. I pour the whiskey straight over the wound before pressing the towels over it to soak up the blood. This won’t do. It’s only temporary.
“Hmm,” Aunt Anya says with a smirk. “Clever. The doctor is five minutes away from your house, Aleksandr.”
My father and I both whip our heads in her direction. She smirks. “I think it’s about time you had a family discussion.”
I shudder as I think of my mother finding out about everything all at once, and I can tell my father is furious, too. But instead of reprimanding Aunt Anya, he grits his teeth and looks like he’s about to puke as he turns a shade paler. My heart flutters as I watch my father, who can’t stand touching anyone but my mother and me, gather the man I love under his shoulder and begin to lift him. My father physically recoils, but he pushes through, and tears spring to my eyes as I realize how much he would do for me, even at the sacrifice of himself.