Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
It very much is.
“Jesus.” Kane scrubs a hand over his face. “Not going to lie, this is all pretty fucked. I mean, fuck. This is fucked.”
“So, Friday,” Cal says, his voice hesitant. “You think that’s when they move.”
Unfortunately, I know it is. I can feel it in flesh and bone.
“And you think you can stop it,” Kane chimes in.
“I don’t think anything, Kane. I know. Both what I have to do and what that means for me—and you guys, as it were.” My laugh is soft and sardonic. “Sorry about that.”
“Rook…” Calloway’s voice softens, just a fraction. “Are you sure about this? Maybe there’s…another way.”
I almost laugh. If there were another way, I would have taken it. I didn’t want this. I didn’t fucking want this at all.
What I want is to go back to before I really saw her. I want to go back to before my body recognized her like a command and my instincts turned into a leash. What I want is for her to stay human and safe and unaware.
What I want is to hate her.
But I don’t. Not even close.
I stare out into the night, and my brothers don’t push anymore. They know my silence is my answer.
“She thinks I hate her,” I say finally.
“What?” Cal asks.
“She asked me last night when I was fixing her tire,” I grind out, jaw tight. “Why I hate her.”
Calloway’s expression shifts, and understanding flickers in his eyes. Kane lets out a rough laugh.
Their bad news just got worse—we’re starting this whole death-sentence adventure off at square fucking zero.
“I told her I hate everyone,” I continue flatly. Because I do. Especially any motherfucker who wants to be around her, put their hands on her, touch her.
Kane grins. “Wow. You’re such a romantic, Rook. Can’t wait to convince her we’re a safe space, while also fighting for our lives.”
Calloway’s gaze stays on me. “You didn’t tell her anything else?”
“No.”
Because if I tell her, she becomes part of it. The moment she knows, she’s not just a woman who loves skating and complains about tax season; she’s a target who understands she’s a target and carries the fear that comes with that.
And the elites don’t just take human women with the right bloodlines who are compliant. They revel, too, in the women who resist.
That’s a hell of a lot of danger to carry on your own—a burden I won’t give my fated mate without also providing a cushion for her to land on.
“She doesn’t know what waits for her if I don’t intervene,” I say quietly.
Kane’s grin fades. “And you do.”
I swallow the lump of rage and guilt that rises in my throat. “Yes.”
Calloway’s voice drops, careful. “Does she feel it at least? The connection between you?”
I don’t answer immediately, even though I’m loaded with the knowledge to do so. She feels it. I know she does. But putting a voice to that makes all of this seem even more real.
It makes a future I never wanted for her inevitable.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say finally. “Not right now.”
Kane steps closer, voice hard. “It matters because, if she’s yours—”
“Don’t,” I snap.
Kane stops. His eyes flare, but he reins it in.
Calloway studies me. “You understand what you’re planning.”
“Yes.”
“You understand that once you intervene, there’s no going back.”
I understand what it means for me and them and that I’m not giving them a say. The answer is still the same.
“Yes.”
“And you’re prepared to live with what that turns us into.”
I hesitate, but it’s not because I’m not prepared. It’s because I am. For whatever may come.
And that means the whole Slater legacy is fucked in one burning basket.
Kane watches me closely. “You’re not asking us for permission.”
I shake my head, ever so apologetically. “No.”
Calloway’s mouth tightens. “When?”
“Not yet,” I say. “But soon.”
Kane laughs once, sharp and humorless. “Bullshit. We’re already there.”
I don’t argue. Because he’s right.
I was pulled into that parking lot last night without meaning to be. Called to her house this morning because of Holland’s scent. I’m hearing things I shouldn’t hear, watching patterns I swore I’d ignore, and making up bullshit excuses about tow trucks and spare tires to put myself between her and Holland, all the while knowing the consequences.
I’m crossing lines I shouldn’t be crossing, but I can’t find a single cell inside my body that’s willing or able to stop.
The next steps will be bolder—but we’re already past the point of no return.
“The second he tries to move her,” I say, voice steady now, “I’m ending it.”
Calloway meets my eyes, his own flaring blue with resignation. “Rook. This doesn’t just change things for her,” he says. “It changes things for us.”
I meet my brother head on. “If you were me, what would you do, Cal?”
His voice is raw. “I’d have already made my move.”
Kylie
By some miracle and elementary-age dance recitals—Martin’s youngest daughter’s—I’m leaving work by five o’clock on Thursday.