Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
All he wanted all along was revenge, and I was so damn stupid to think I was in control. He was able to overcome me, and for some reason, it’s not unexpected. I kind of deserve it.
But in ten years, he’ll be fucking everything in that Den, broken and not even realizing he’s addicted to the power, the dominance, the escape…He’ll up the ante so he can feel excited, just like his father.
I squeeze my lids, still closed. Just like me.
I don’t want…
I shake my head. “Fuck,” I grit out, swiping away the wetness in my eyes with my forefinger and thumb.
“I don’t think we have enough beer for this!” Trace shouts from downstairs.
Krisjen chimes in, “I want the kids camping out in Paisleigh’s room!”
“Why?”
“Because no one can find the floor in yours!” she yells at Mars.
I listen, no interest in helping or trying to problem-solve any of this shit.
“The Salazars are evacuating.”
“So are the…”
But I’ve stopped paying attention. People are moving inland to stay with relatives in case we lose power, and if I were them, why would I come back?
With the curfew and now the treasure…
Callum was wrong about one thing. The Bay knows about the treasure. Macon knew they’d find out one way or another, and it would look worse if we were caught keeping it from anyone, but what Callum doesn’t know is that it’s ours. It was found in Jaeger graves by Jaegers, so the elders voted and came to the decision that we’d invest it in Sanoa Bay—homes, education, business grants, security—and we’d do everything possible to keep it a secret from St. Carmen, unified in that cause. We were not going to make them richer.
Which meant living small to avoid detection. No one bought sports cars or indulged in lavish vacations. It was never spent on anything without approval from the elders.
Now it’s lost, and everyone will see that as a failure by my family. This loss, coupled with the stress of the curfew, has taken away their confidence that we can guide the community forward.
And I know I’m not responsible for Callum’s decisions, but it’s hard to believe that. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have done any of this.
I’ve been fucking useless, and he’s going to thrive, becoming someone I will hate—he already is—and I don’t know what to do.
“Where the fuck is Dallas?”
Army’s voice sounds more desperate than angry, like he’s trying to run in two directions.
“He’s here,” Liv says from the hallway. “Just leave him—”
My phone pings, and I hear others go off around the house. Swiping up my cell, I see another emergency weather warning, my eyes finding the boldface words.
*Lockdown in effect until 6/30 at 5 AM.*
*Please stay in your homes.*
Lockdown. No one on the roads from now till morning, and it’s only the afternoon.
Callum probably left with Anna-Katherine this morning. He wouldn’t want to be inconvenienced with a storm. They’re probably holed up in a fancy hotel, and she’s having a great time in the pool.
But then again, he wouldn’t leave the treasure, provided it’s still with the police. He’d stay close to it.
I toss the phone down.
Enough.
My stomach caves in, empty of food, water, and liquor. The walls of this house feel like they’re pushing in on me, his face still staring at me from his bed.
His eyes were different. They didn’t look at me the same way.
Rising, I pick up the backpack and dump out any shit I have left over from going fishing weeks ago and start stuffing clothes in. Just a couple of changes of clothes. I can grab what I need down the road.
Pain hits my gut, and I pause, nearly hunching forward. My lungs constrict, and it hurts to breathe.
Fisting the pack, I shove it to the bed and walk from my room.
“Are the shutters secure in your room?” Iron asks, rushing by.
In my jeans and bare feet, I descend the stairs, hearing my family race around like a fucking tornado is on the house.
“Dallas!” Iron calls after me.
I glance at the pictures on the wall, my mother’s hair getting duller, her skin paler, and her body more frail as the years went on. There’s almost comfort in knowing I’ll never climb these stairs again after today. I haven’t been good for a single goddamn person, so why not move on?
Heading through the kitchen, I spot Trace kneeling in front of the fridge, stocking beer.
He twists his head toward me. “Hey, I got a couple bottles of that bourbon you like,” he says. “You want me to chill the rum?”
I ignore him and exit through the door that leads to the garage. In the corner, with the hoes and rakes and shovels, I find the thick handle of the ax. Trudging back inside, I come face-to-face with Macon.
“Oh, good,” he says, seeing the ax in my hand as he hauls some wooden planks onto his shoulder. “Grab those boards.” He gestures to the rest on the table. “Follow me up to Mars’s room.”