Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
The thought of her was a rope pulling me through the dark maze of my own mind.
I didn’t know when I’d find my way back to her.
But I knew it would be soon.
Very fucking soon.
The urgency burned in me like a fever, a restless energy that wouldn’t let me stay still.
Home was her touch, grounding me in a way nothing else could.
Home was her voice, weaving through my thoughts, reminding me of everything I had yet to fight for.
Home was her scent, her strength, her defiance, and her surrender—all the pieces of her that made me whole.
Soon.
Until then. . .I would be here.
The wind rippled across Dream Lake—a place where time stood still, where the boundaries between life and death blurred into something infinitely vast yet achingly intimate.
A red moon hung heavy above the water; its reflection fractured by unseen currents.
Overhead, crows soared, dipping and rising in playful arcs.
Completely at peace, I sat on a flat rock near the lake’s edge.
Around me, faint glimmers of green light flickered like fireflies in a twilight meadow. However, they weren’t merely lights.
I knew better.
They were ghosts.
Hundreds and hundreds of translucent people moved across the land and even Dream Lake—men, women, and children.
A green glowing hue outlined their bodies.
They were surreal shadows of humanity.
Their images flickered in and out like a mirage of wavering spectral figures. It was hard to make out good details of them but through the flickering, I noticed the ghosts wearing tattered and charred clothes from a long-ago fashion.
Unlike the stories others reported, these ghosts didn’t jeer or taunt me. They didn’t claw or wail like restless souls in search of vengeance.
No.
They lingered here with those translucent forms shimmering in soft green hues.
They watched, not with judgment, but with a quiet patience that felt oddly reassuring. Their presence was neither cold nor foreboding but warm, as if they were part of the lake itself.
Part of the air.
Part of the very earth I rested on.
The breeze shifted, carrying with it a scent I couldn’t quite place—a blend of fresh rain and earth, tinged with something ancient and sacred. It wrapped around me, filling my lungs, steadying the rhythm of my heart, and. . .I just knew that she would be near me soon.
A sound broke through the silence—boots crunching against the dirt.
I didn’t need to look up.
A second later, she sat beside me without a word.
I turned my head slightly, catching her glowing green silhouette in the moonlight.
The Crownsville Bandit.
With such a big deadly reputation, she was a petite Black woman. I often wondered why the history books had made her a man. Perhaps, the ones that wrote those books were embarrassed to admit that a small Black woman had terrorized them for years.
I smirked.
As always, she wore a feathered cowboy hat. Its wide brim cast deep shadows over her piercing brown eyes. Her shirt—worn and tattered—hung loosely against her ghostly frame, while faded brown pants clung to her thighs.
Two guns rested in holsters at each side. Their leather straps were worn from time and use.
Around her neck, a colorful bandana shifted in the breeze.
She didn’t even look my way. “You’ve changed, little one.”
“Yes.” I returned my gaze to Dream Lake. “I have changed.”
“You didn’t used to be like this.”
“Like what?”
“So calm. So at peace.”
I smirked.
“Long ago, when I tried to talk to you, all you did was stare up at that balcony.” She gestured in the opposite direction.
I didn’t glance back.
I knew what she meant—the balcony to Chanel’s bedroom.
But now, it was just a broken tether to a past obsession that I had finally let go of.
“It was always hard to get your attention.” The Bandit looked at me. “With the way you acted, one would think that I wasn’t a scary ghost.”
“You were still scary. I was just. . .more haunted by my obsession with Chanel.”
“Things have truly changed.” The Rebel nodded slowly. “Good. Because you’ve got things to do.”
Her words were a challenge but I didn’t bristle.
Instead, I turned and met her stare head-on. “The daggers that you said were keys. Ended up being more than just weapons. They were puzzle pieces.”
“The keys to my treasure map.” Her lips curved into a sly smile. “That little girl who solved it is my kin. She’s got the good blood.”
“She’ll be happy to hear that.”
“You got those daggers to her like I hoped. There’s more out there but you can’t get them until after Kashmere is with child. Not before. Remember that. You’ll have to wait.”
That didn’t make any sense.
As far as I knew, Kashmere hadn’t been dating anyone. She’d been forced to take over a throne due to Chanel’s and Romeo’s deaths.
But that didn’t matter now.
There was something that peaked my interest.
I looked at her. “You knew I’d fall in love with TT’s sister, Moni?”
“I hoped, but time is different here. We see the past, present, and future all at once, but things shift. Choices ripple. Futures change. But your heart. . .it likes our blood a lot.”