Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
To where?
You’re mostly naked with no identity, no money—how far could you run with nothing?
But none of that mattered because there was one thing keeping me alive. One thing driving me forward, giving me strength, making me fight and not give into the horror of my situation.
Answers.
I needed them more than I needed air. I needed truth more than I needed safety, freedom, or rescuing.
Answers were my driving force because I currently lived in a worse prison than any Arthur Killian could trap me in.
I was nothing. Nobody. Lost. Alone. Orphaned from all thoughts.
Answers were the key and this man had them.
“Escape!” he snorted. “Fuck, the cops won’t save you. They’re worse than us.”
The police will help. You’ve done nothing wrong.
I would flee if there wasn’t some horrible niggle poking my brain every time I thought of screaming for help and running. There was no doubt in my mind I could run fast enough to make my capturer chase me, cause his heart to pump harder, and for him to pass out. His eyes were hazy and pain-filled already. It wouldn’t take much to make him topple.
Then why didn’t I do it?
Because the thought of entering a world where I have no idea where I belong scares the bejesus out of me.
Baby steps. My world had shrunk to this man, his house, and fixing an injury I had the skills—hopefully—to heal. Everything else… It held no allure. A kindly spoken police officer couldn’t help me. A shrink couldn’t help me.
But this man could.
Kill waved his gun. “Stop talking and get in the house.”
I didn’t back down. I didn’t flinch from his anger or smug power.
When I didn’t move, he muttered, “The police are just as corrupt as us. The minute they caught you, you’d be living an entirely different nightmare.”
Shoving the gun back into his waistband, he suddenly shoved me forward into his house. “You’re like a one-woman comedy show. Just shut up and do as you’re told.”
I didn’t retaliate. Instead, I let him push me down the corridor that spilled us out into a rotund two-story entrance hall. The architecture of curved wall, domed glass roof, and wooden circular stairs would’ve been spectacular if it wasn’t for the dangerous man hissing in pain behind me.
I whispered, “You need to sit down. I’d guess you only have a few more minutes before you pass out.”
“Shut up.”
My heart did a weird skip-shuffle. Part of me willed him to fall unconscious. Escape and freedom would come gift-wrapped and easy if he was no longer an issue. But it went back to the one thing I desperately craved.
Answers to my voidless world.
The stronger part of me had no intention of letting this man pass out and leaving me with nothing.
He stalked to the stairs, breathing harder with every movement. He paused with a foot on the bottom rung. He looked up to the landing, a flicker of rage shadowed his features.
“You can’t climb up there. You’ll pass out. Who knows if you’ll break a bone or two when you fall.”
He shot me a hate-filled glare, gripping the banister. His entire body looked as if he wanted to dismantle his house and burn the staircase.
He took another step, hauling himself up with the aid of the curved handrail. His leather jacket creaked as he breathed hard.
I prepared for him to pass out. I didn’t know if I should stand close by to try and catch him, or avoid him to let him crash on his own.
I couldn’t decide, so I just watched. And waited.
He paused, then sighed angrily. Throwing a quick glance at me, he stomped back in his large boots and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t think you’re smarter than me,” he grunted.
Dragging me silently to another door, he kicked it open to reveal a huge sterile room with soft pewter on the walls and massive frames hanging in perfect symmetry.
The lights in the house were hidden, so it seemed to light up as if by magic with no discernable lightbulb. Kill didn’t give me time to study the picture frames, dragging me over the bare, white-tiled floor to the huge kidney-shaped desk with four large computer screens all linked together with two keyboards in front of them.
The soft hum of machinery and glare of the screens were the only liveliness in the entire mansion.
“Where is everybody?” I asked as he threw me into an office chair, sending the coaster wheels sliding a little with my weight.
There was an emptiness about the house—a silence that wasn’t possible if there were other people dwelling within.
Kill grabbed the only other chair, sitting heavily. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed against the immense pain he must be feeling.
“I live alone.” Grabbing his gun, he placed it loudly and pointedly on the desk. “Doesn’t mean you’re not in danger. Believe me when I say that makes it more dangerous than ever for you.”