Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
I groan, collapsing against the wall.
"What's wrong, Troy? Talk to me."
"Someone…Christ," I rasp, trying not to fucking lose my mind. "There was someone in the woods earlier, watching us. I thought maybe you or her father sent him. But there's a bullet hole over our bed, and she's not fucking here."
"I didn't send anyone for her, son," my father says quietly. "I wouldn't. Phillip wouldn't send anyone to hurt her, either. He may be a bastard, but he wouldn't try to kill her."
"She's not here. Someone took her." The words shake on my lips. Or maybe I'm shaking. I don't fucking know. "She's not fucking here."
"Come home, son. We'll find her," my father promises, his voice soft. For the first time in two decades, he sounds like the man who held my hand when my mother was dying and promised me that we'd be okay. We haven't been okay—not a single day since then. But back then, I believed him. I desperately want to believe him now, too.
"Even if we have to tear the kingdoms apart, we'll find her," he swears.
"We have to find her. I promised her, Dad. I fucking promised I'd protect her."
"You will."
Except…I didn't.
She needed me, and I wasn't fucking here.
She's the light in my life, the peace, the one damn thing I've done right in thirty-four years—and she doesn't even know it.
I have to find her. I won't rest again until I do.
Chapter Thirteen
Troy
"Idon't care what you have to do," I snarl, storming across the throne room, my phone clenched to my ear. "Search the entire fucking settlement, house by house, if that's what it takes, Oren."
"Jesus Christ, Troy," Oren Arch mutters. "I already told you that we're looking for her, but you're not being reasonable. The Orcs had nothing to do with this."
"Reasonable?" I growl, my voice dropping two octaves, "You haven't seen unreasonable yet, Oren."
"For fuck's sake. Your female isn't here. Think, man! Why the fuck would we want her? If Stonehaven and Rosewood want to align, more fucking power to you. We don't give a flying fuck what the humans do. We never have. You leave us alone; we leave you alone. That's the deal."
He's right. I know he is, but I can't fucking think through the terror and rage clawing at me. It's been two days. I've torn apart Stonehaven. We've torn apart Rosewood. My men have combed through Fable Forest around the cabin. She's nowhere to be found.
No one has come forward to say they have her. There have been no sightings. No word. Nothing.
I'm losing my mind.
"Just keep searching," I snap, disconnecting on him as King Phillip Rosewood strides into the throne room, my father leaning heavily on his arm.
"Anything?" I ask, shoving my phone into my pocket.
"Jesus, Troy," Samson says from across the room. "At least let them sit the fuck down before you start grilling them."
I shoot him a death glare but snap my mouth closed, allowing Phillip to lead my father to his throne. My father sinks into it with a groan. He looks exhausted. I don't know why he's helping me as much as he is, but he's barely slept the last two days. I don't know what to think. I don't know how to feel. He's been by my side, tearing the kingdom apart for me.
It's fucking with my head. For years, he's been the enemy—the man I railed against every damn step of the way. Now, suddenly, he isn't. He's acting like my father, the man I thought was lost long ago. I don't understand what prompted the shift.
Is it me? Am I simply seeing him differently? I don't know. Perhaps, for once, I'm simply tired of seeing him as the enemy, and I'm seeing him as he truly is. Not a despot. Not a tyrant. Not a man trying to manipulate or control me. But a man torn apart by grief, doing the best he can to guide his son and lead his kingdom.
Maybe we aren't as different as I thought. Right now, it certainly doesn't feel that way. I think I understand him better now than I ever have. For two days, I've been in hell, burning every goddamn second. He's been there for twenty years. The only thing that sets us apart is that I still have hope. There is none for him. He'll never hold my mother in his arms again. The only thing he can do is take care of his kingdom and wait for death. It's a goddamn miserable way to live.
He's done it for twenty years.
And I think he did it for me.
I'm an unworthy asshole. I've never felt that more acutely than I have for the last two days.
My father cuts his eyes at Samson. "Can I have a minute with my son?"
"You can have two," Samson says, climbing to his feet. "Maybe you can convince him to stop threatening every leader of the free world he speaks to." My best friend shakes his head, weary, just as exhausted as the rest of us. He's been out there too, helping search. He only just got back from Fable Forest a few hours ago.