Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
She's healthier, her hands less wrinkled.
And then I see it, the locks of lighter-colored hair covering her face.
I feel a little more at ease somehow, as if the fact that she was starting to take better care of herself eases some of the pain that had built up inside of me for years, but knowing this only makes what I'm facing all the more tragic in a way.
I crouch, my knees hitting the dirt beside her lifeless body.
I pray over her, hoping that somehow the words, the plea to God to forgive all our mistakes, will be enough for her to have some form of happiness in the afterlife, some relief from the pain she endured while she walked the earth.
I sweep the hair back, pulling the locks away from her face.
And freeze.
"No," I gasp.
The beautiful face looking up at me isn't my mother.
"How many women are you going to fail, Maddox?"
The voice is one I've never heard, but somehow I know exactly who it is.
Then I feel it, the press of a barrel to my temple.
I know this is the end, and instead of fighting, instead of wanting to beg for my life, I accept my fate.
I lower my gaze, my eyes meeting the open and lifeless eyes I've spent so much time looking at lately.
"Juliet," I whisper just as the bullet leaves the gun.
I jolt awake, somehow staying silent although the pain from the nightmare feels so real. I lift my hand and press it to the side of my head, fully expecting to find a patch of blood there.
When it comes away clean, I'm shocked.
I breathe deeply, trying to get my racing heart under control, but it takes longer than it normally does after one of these nightmares.
My hands tremble, the tension in my body doubling with every breath I take.
Failure isn't an option.
Failing her isn't an option.
I will take my last breath on this earth before I let anything happen to her.
Cerberus rules, and the law be damned.
Chapter 34
Juliet
When I wake before the alarm clock goes off, I know better than to believe that it's because I'm excited about what the day might bring.
I'm happy on some level, knowing what this fundraiser can do to help the community.
I try not to focus on what could go wrong as I get dressed.
For some reason, I feel like I'm prepping myself to be helpful rather than letting the idea of refusing to go take over. There's still that voice in my head telling me that my go-bag and the keys to my car are all that I need, but it's quieter than it normally is, and I know that has everything to do with Cerberus, and more specifically, Nyx.
I don't know how many times I’ve promised myself that I would never rely on another person in this world, knowing that depending on someone else puts me in a vulnerable position, but I find myself glad that these guys have been here to help.
I don't want to keep running. I never did.
I didn't want my life to end up where I had to always keep looking over my shoulder, wondering when Graham was going to step out of the shadows and finish what he started so long ago.
When I first left, I had convinced myself that I would settle, that I'd start a new life and never look back, but the fear was already instilled in me, the pain and trauma from my marriage already strong enough to keep me running.
I want things to be different going forward.
I need things to be different, and that doesn't mean that I stop being concerned about my safety. It just means that it's okay to let others look after me for a while.
I leave my bedroom with the full confidence that this is going to be a great day, that we're going to help people and further the dissolution of men who hurt women by getting those victims the services they need.
We're going to show them that they're strong enough to take the required steps toward their freedom from the pain and hurt they've suffered, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
The scent of brewed coffee hits me the second I step out of my bedroom.
My eyes immediately search the small room to find him. Relief rather than trepidation builds inside of me when I find him leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of water in his hand.
"Good morning," I say, giving him a small smile.
A part of me wants to walk up and wrap my arms around him, a hug of appreciation because, despite all the worry I live with constantly, I was able to get a decent night's sleep for the first time in as long as I can remember, and I know it was because he was here to keep me safe.