Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I know I should go, but I can’t seem to swallow the rage that’s been flowing in my veins since I found Violet a week ago. We have a game tonight, and if I check my phone, I’ll find everyone screaming at me to get to the arena.
Besides, Dahlia, who left an hour ago, will probably be back soon.
She’s barely left Violet’s side since she was discharged from the ICU a couple of days ago, and she’s spent entire nights crying and begging Violet not to leave her alone.
Dahlia is a problem like everyone in Violet’s fucking life.
If she loves her so much, how could she not know her beloved sister is one big ball of depression wrapped around suicidal ideation?
But then again, Violet is a professional at hiding herself—even when writing in her journal. If I hadn’t personally witnessed her countless nightmares and the way she was crying so bitterly in her sleep, it would’ve been hard to see any of the pain behind her constant wide smiles and soft-spoken platitudes.
In reality, Violet doesn’t cry. Even when she’s shocked, in pain, or downright terrified.
“Fucking liar,” I mutter, staring at Mario’s bed beside hers.
He’s also in a goddamn coma, so I can’t get anything from him either.
Only these two know what happened that day. Because, for some phantom reason—aka suspicious as fuck—all road surveillance footage for that day was wiped out.
It can’t be a suicide attempt.
Evidence?
One, no security footage, which means someone was covering up a crime.
Two, Mario was run over or hit by something and had severe internal bleeding. Violet likes him—too much for my liking—so she would’ve definitely tried to help him.
Three, and most importantly, I found her far away from Mario’s location, which means she was transported, by force, because she’d never leave him bleeding out on the street.
Now, the only evidence we have—that Dahlia has been pestering the detective about nonstop—is the traces of human skin under her fingernails.
Because Violet fought. And there was blood, so she clawed, too.
I can only imagine how much she cried and screamed, wanting to save Mario and being helpless to do so.
Maybe that’s why she cried. Or maybe it was because of something else. Something worse.
At any rate, I asked our head of staff, Lucia, to look into the DNA since the police are coming up empty. Lucia is Mario’s mom, and even though she makes a show of being loyal to Regis and even Julian, she’d never forgive anyone who hurt her son.
Lucia’s a wise, resourceful, and very detail-oriented woman. We struck a deal—she helps me solve this case, and I’ll take revenge for Mario and make sure he’s given the chance he deserves to climb the ranks once I become a Founder.
That is, if he ever wakes up.
I never told Lucia that I intended to give Mario his chance anyway. We kind of grew up together behind the Callahan prison bars. He’s smart and attentive, which is why I trusted him with watching Violet.
A decision I regretted when I saw how effortlessly close they became. She kept giving him gifts and food—which I asked him to refuse, but the bastard just ignored me.
“What really happened, Mario? Who could hurt you this badly?”
Only the beeping machines are his response.
Mario has Special Forces training and quick reflexes. Unless it was professionals like himself, he wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed right now.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
I tilt my head sideways as Kane, who just spoke, strolls into the room with Preston following behind, both of them dressed in blue Vipers sweats and varsity jackets.
“I knew you’d be here, watching two comatose people like a creep.” Kane crosses his arms. “We have a game tonight, Jude. We’re supposed to be at the arena by now.”
“This is why I haven’t seen much of you?” Preston stares between the two beds. “You replaced me with comatose people? My pride is so wounded, I’m gonna cry.”
“What is he doing here?” I ask Kane.
“He tagged along. You know how persistent he gets.”
“Poor Mario. So young and probably a virgin. We should’ve pressured him to fuck around…” He whistles upon seeing Violet. “And who is this beauty— Oww!”
I slap his hand away before he can touch Violet’s face.
Preston shakes his hand. “The fuck was that for?”
“She’s number seven,” Kane says, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “The one he didn’t kill, but she still got attacked and sent into a coma anyway.”
“Oooh, so this is mystery number seven. She’s hot!” Pres grins. “Still want to chop her head off, big man? Though, seriously, not the face, something about it feels like it’ll be a waste for some reason.”
“Stay the fuck away from her, Pres, I mean it.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Consider me fucking intrigued. Who is this chick anyway?”
“Unfinished business,” I say from between clenched teeth, then stare at Kane. “Lucia said you switched the DNA sample the police got a hold of. Why?”