Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Then drop me off at the hospital,” I say. “And while you’re at it, you can drop Easton off too.”
Zade lets out a huff, not bothering to look my way. “Shut up and let him fix you,” he says. “You’re bleeding all over my apartment.”
I scoff. “Right, because you really give a shit what happens to this apart—AH FUCK,” I cry out as Dalton pours something over my cut, cleaning it out. I try to tear my hand back but he has a death grip on it. “Was that necessary?”
Dalton doesn’t respond as he focuses on what he’s doing, and I watch in horror as he fishes out a needle and thread from the first aid kit. “Tell me you’re gonna do something to numb the pain first?”
Easton scoffs beside me and hands me the bottle of whiskey. “Drink up, Pretty.”
Fuck.
I take the whiskey and bring it to my lips, taking a deep swig as Zade gets to work searching for the bullet lost in Easton’s shoulder. My stomach clenches as the tweezers disappear inside his shoulder, but I keep my stare on it, distracting me from the needle clutched between Dalton’s fingers.
Easton clenches his jaw, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, reaching for the whiskey and tearing it out of my grasp. He takes a long, drawn-out swig before cutting himself off, his eyes wide as he looks at Sawyer. “Venom,” he says. “She’s not here.”
“Fuck,” Sawyer says, turning on his heel. “I’ll find her.”
I barely get a chance to think about the fact there’s a snake loose in my apartment with my knocked-out roomie when Dalton digs down with the needle, and I realize just how low my pain threshold really is. I cry out and Easton hands me the whiskey once again. I drink up, the liquor burning my throat on its way down. “Fuck me, this hurts so bad.”
Easton scoffs, glancing at me with his brow arched. “You think that hurts?” he questions. “You should try being shot.”
Okay, he has a point. He’s definitely in more pain than I am.
I try to keep my mouth shut when Dalton subtly shakes his head, keeping his attention on my hand. “We can’t keep her safe here.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Zade mutters, digging a little deeper into Easton’s shoulder. “We’re out of options. We need to move her into the penthouse.”
“What?” I demand, my head snapping up, the very thought of living in that big penthouse sending chills sailing down my spine. Even more so now that I’ve seen exactly how cruel Zade really is. “Over my dead fucking body.”
Zade scoffs, irritated by my refusal. “If that’s what it takes.”
I clench my jaw, glaring at the asshole. “I’m not living with you,” I say, putting my foot down despite knowing that this place really isn’t safe for me anymore. “I have a job and college to think about.”
Zade grunts, tugging on the tweezers until the bullet emerges from Easton’s shoulder, blood pouring out after it. Putting it down on the table, I hear the heavy metal of the bullet rolling around before Zade’s callous stare locks onto mine. “What good will your precious job and college degree be if you’re dead?”
Holding his stare, I clench my jaw, fury rippling through me as I realize my own needs and wants don’t even begin to register on his radar. He arches a brow, silently daring me to fight him on it, but he’s right. Fighting and refusing only puts me in a worse situation.
I let out a sigh and glance down at my hand, cutting the conversation short. Just when I think he’s about to gloat for yet another win, Sawyer comes busting through the door, Venom wrapped around his hand and her fangs lodged deep into his wrist. “The little fucker bit me.”
Chapter 22
OAKLEY
Staring out over the city, I make myself comfortable in Zade’s den, pulling my feet up onto the couch. I clutch a glass in my hand, mindlessly swirling the frosty liquid around and listening to the ice cubes as they clatter against the edge of the glass.
The lights are dimmed and the city below is just starting to come alive for the night. I’ve been here less than a day, and I’m already desperate to get out, even though that’s not possible. I suppose it could be worse—Zade could have me chained and locked up. This view beats his fucked-up cement prison any day.
Bringing my glass to my lips, I take a quick sip just as Dalton appears in the entryway, leaning against the frame and gently knocking against the wall. “Want some company?” he questions, a subtle hint of guilt hidden within his bright blue eyes.
I shrug my shoulders and glance back at the view, the city lights sparkling. “I suppose.”
He strides through the den and drops onto the couch next to me, leaving space between us. I watch him out the corner of my eye, not wanting to let on that he has my full attention. “I, uhh . . . I came to check on you,” he says while getting comfortable, putting his feet up on the small coffee table and stretching his arms out along the back of the couch. “How are you doing?”