Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Why the fuck does everyone suggest I sleep it off? Like I could just go to bed, close my eyes, and when I wake up in a blanket of fucking sunshine, I’ll have her back? I’ll have our baby back? That’s not how life works, Claire…” He stumbled toward me, then swayed on his feet as he rubbed his eyes with his right hand.
He’d called me Claire.
The knife twisted deeper into my chest as I took the second step, raising my hand to put it on his shoulder. “It won’t be better. I never said it would be better; I just think it’s best that you go inside so you don’t die from pneumonia or force your dad’s hand any more than you already have.”
He flinched a bit.
He worshipped his dad.
He was, after all, a carbon copy of Chase right down to the tattoos, good looks, and insanely out-of-control temper when he had no outlet for his feelings.
Luc calmed Chase the way Claire had calmed Ash.
And now…
Destruction.
“Ash.” I squeezed his shoulder, his full weight collapsed against me, thank God I was stronger than I looked as I helped him walk back into the pool house, completely soaked.
We made it as far as the couch before he fell against it. I decided to use gravity to shove him down.
He groaned and flipped onto his side, eyes empty as he stared straight ahead, droplets of water slid down his sculpted jaw onto the black leather.
I cleared my throat. “Let me just get you some dry clothes and some water…”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
At least he wasn’t yelling anymore.
It took me at least ten minutes to grab some clean clothes from the chaos that was his room. I finally located a dry shirt that didn’t smell like whiskey and a pair of Nike sweats that looked clean-enough.
By the time I made it downstairs with one of the bottles of water he always kept by his bed, along with his clothes, he was nowhere to be found.
Seriously?
Ugh, I so did not sign up to play babysitter tonight. I had class in the morning—early. And my only shot at survival was keeping my scholarships and actually graduating so I could get a job and get away from killers.
Not that I wasn’t thankful.
At this point, I would have agreed to be their live-in cook full time if it got me a place to stay—plus, they protected me from the outside.
And I knew it was only a matter of time before someone came after me, mistook me for someone else, tried to hurt me, or just found out what pain I was hiding.
Better to keep your enemies close even if they are terrifying.
“Ash,” I called.
A light flickered from the bathroom.
I sighed in relief, then went over and knocked, the door creaked open, and there he was, sitting in the bathtub completely naked.
It was impossible not to notice his perfect physique; even drunk out of his mind, he was beautiful—like a fallen angel that forgot his place was in Heaven—not his own personal hell.
“You know…” He held out a giant knife and thumbed the blade, studying the point as a trickle of blood trailed down his thumb. “Most people do it wrong…”
I froze. “You’re drunk, Ash. Let’s just get you some clothes—”
“Fucking idiots.” His pupils were pinpoints as he looked at me over the blade of the knife. “They cut against the vein forgetting that you’re supposed to cut with it. But there’s other ways, Claire—other ways to join you…”
He was out of his mind. My chest heaved with panic as I weighed my options. He was an expert at killing things, even drunk. I was a college nerd on scholarship who had zero hand-to-hand combat skills.
Let alone against a proven killer.
“Three seconds,” he rasped as he lowered the knife to the inside of his right thigh cutting the side like he was testing the sharpness of the knife. “Three seconds, and I’ll see you, sweetheart. Three seconds and you’ll be real again, three seconds, and we’ll be a family.” Tears streamed down his face. “That’s all, Claire. That’s all it would take.”
The knife was so dangerously close to his femoral artery that I had no time to call Chase or the ambulance.
No time but to figure out a way to save his life.
No other way.
“Don’t,” I whispered. “Ash, please… don’t.”
“I have to.” He sobbed. “I have to!”
“Please!” I choked on my tears. “Please don’t, Ash, please! Just stay, stay with me, right here, right now—hand me the knife.”
“Three seconds, Claire.”
“Ash, Claire would want you to live.”
“I killed you…” He grabbed the blade with his other hand and squeezed as blood spurted all over the bathtub. “This may as well be your blood. You were my soul, and I spilled it, I spilled it all. I didn’t see, I didn’t—” The knife slipped out of his bloody hand.