Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 155900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
She was disoriented.
Sick.
Pain and fear heavy in her limbs.
She went in and out of consciousness, as if her spirit tried to float away. To rise above the torment that had been inflicted.
Raucous laughter hit her ears, pulling her from the reprieve of the stupor.
“Bro, you know how much they’re worth?”
“Don’t care…gonna get my piece.”
Another bark of laughter. A clapping of a shoulder. “Cutter’s gonna cut your dick off and feed it to the sharks.”
“Fuck Cutter.”
Her sister whimpered beside her while Jana wept.
The light was minimally brighter above her left eye, and Emery carefully shifted, her head angled in a way so she could peer around the edge of the blindfold. A bulb hung from the ceiling and poured jaundiced light against the brick walls, and two men stood facing each other.
The only thing she could make out was the one with his back to her.
Brown hair and he wore a black leather vest.
A design was embroidered on the back. An owl in full flight with a skull clutched in its claws. It was circled by an O with an I slashing through the middle.
And inscribed at the bottom was Iron Owls MC.
Sickness pooled in my stomach, and nausea rolled up my throat.
No.
I squinted at the picture, praying that I wasn’t seeing it right. That I was only making it up. Conjuring a nightmare that wasn’t really there.
But there would be no scrubbing that memory from my being. The emblem that would forever be emblazoned in my mind.
Trembles rolled through me, and I fumbled as I tried to set the frame down. The wood clipped the top of another frame, and it knocked it over. It hit another, causing a domino effect.
Frames toppled, and two hit the floor.
I was shaking. Shaking and shaking. My chest squeezing so tight I couldn’t get the air into my lungs.
A frenzy took over as I hurried deeper into his closet. Here, where he seemed to keep the relics of his past. I shoved through the clothes, old tees and worn, aged jackets.
Then I fumbled when my fingers landed on the leather.
The cut.
It was the same. The same.
The back embroidered with the owl flying with the skull in its claws. The design circled by an O with an I slashing through the middle.
Terror gripped me by the throat.
Suffocating.
Destroying.
Obliterating.
I stumbled back like I could get away. Like maybe if I clawed my way out of this closet, it wouldn’t be real. This would only be some horrible, phantom vortex that I’d been sucked into.
Glass crunched beneath my shoe, and a shiver rocked me as I looked down and saw that I was standing on a busted frame.
I didn’t know what possessed me to reach down and pick it up, but I did.
My fingers trembled as I peered at the image behind the shattered glass.
Kane and his mother. They stood in front of an orchard of roses. He was maybe ten, and she had her arm looped around his shoulders. Her hand and wrist dangled over the side as she tipped her head against his.
Frantic, I brought it closer, and I studied the bracelet she wore around her wrist.
A thin gold bracelet with three flat filigree roses sectioned out across it.
I choked on the lash of pain.
“Don’t fuckin’ fight me, you bitch.” A malicious voice snarled it in her ear from where she was pinned against him. Even though her wrists and ankles were bound and her entire head was covered in some kind of sack, she fought.
She fought.
Writhing and thrashing in his brutal hold. Scratching and clawing with the bare movement she had of her hands.
He grunted as he threw her up onto another hard surface, and she flailed, reaching out to try to grab onto something. Her nails dragged down what felt like an arm.
She struggled to grip on. To fight her way out. To do something. Because she couldn’t let this happen.
He jerked back, and her fingers clasped onto metal that tore free as he ripped his arm away.
Cries echoed all around her as the glow of what she knew had been sunlight was shut off by the slamming of a rolling door.
Darkness consumed, and the sound of an engine roaring suddenly filled the turbulent air. She was jostled as they began to move.
She fisted tightly onto the tiny scrap of metal that cut into the palm of her hand. A bracelet, she realized.
She gritted her teeth as the hate met with the fear as she held the tiny piece of their captor.
Air wheezed in my constricted throat.
I gripped onto the photo as I tore out of the closet and raced through Kane’s room and into mine.
I dropped to my knees at the small walk-in closet where I’d stored my laptop case that had Emmalee’s things.
I ripped out my laptop and her tablet then tipped the bag upside down and poured the contents onto the floor. Frantic, I searched for the little velvet bag.