Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“He isn’t handling it well,” AK said, coming close to me as Flame took himself across the clearing to be alone. I never took my fucking eyes from him, seeing his jaw clench and his eyes dart around the clearing like he was coming out of his fucking skin. “He thinks the flames are back. He thinks they’ll kill Maddie and the baby. Fuck, I think he’s losing it again.” AK ran his hand down his face. He looked exhausted.
“Didn’t go so well when this happened before,” Viking said, folding his arms across his massive chest. “Thought we were gonna lose him. Maddie saved him, of course. Now it’s Maddie who he thinks he’s gonna lose.” As I watched my brother, I felt the anger rise in me too. Not one more thing. First Slash, the fucking suspension, now Flame losing his shit again.
I couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t fucking breakdown. Madds wouldn’t be hurt. She was pregnant. I thought most pregnancies went okay. I didn’t fucking know. But then my heart dropped to the ground just imagining if she did get hurt, if something happened to her and the baby. What the fuck would happen to Flame then? To us? I couldn’t lose Maddie too. I’d already lost one mama. I needed Maddie in my fucking life.
“He can’t have more stress,” AK said and looked at me. In a second, the flame of rage sparked inside me.
I curled my lip, smirking, but I was anything but amused. “Me,” I said to AK, then nodded my head. “I’m the fucking stress.” I laughed in AK’s face. “Message received, AK. Come on, Zane,” I said, and backed away. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
“He ain’t going nowhere,” AK said. “This fucker is going in the house, then I’m taking him to his aunts.”
“What? Why? I’m staying here!” Zane shouted.
“Think again,” AK said. “You think the school didn’t call?”
Zane glanced at me, fucking fury in his eyes and stormed inside AK’s cabin, slamming the door behind him. Turning, I went into the cabin and into my room. I paced from wall to wall, the wooden floor creaking under my feet. I glanced out of my window and saw Flame staring down at his arms, blood trickling along his ruined, tattooed skin. His face was blank, like my brother wasn’t even here on this damn, fucked up planet anymore. A deep sense of dread traveled along my veins. I couldn’t fucking take it. I couldn’t take any more of this shit. I felt like I was coming out of my skin, the anger a feral wolf that was trying to rip free. I never fucking let it out. I knew I’d never come back from it if I did.
Reaching under my bed, I took out the unopened bottle of Jack I’d stolen from the clubhouse, my smokes and gun, and left through the back door before disappearing into the trees.
Slumping down in front a wide tree trunk, I opened the cap of the bottle and began to drink. I drank and drank, smoked smoke after smoke, until my lungs were raw and the forest before me started to blur. With every mouthful of liquor, the memories from the day Slash died had started to fade from my mind. Ultra HD technicolor gave way to grainy black and white. But the fucking ghosts didn’t disappear. No, those fuckers never faded. They never left me alone—fucking Reapers at my shoulder.
I blinked into the dark forest. Night had fallen as quickly as the Jack had slid so easily down my throat. One by one I saw them coming out. I saw the men I’d killed on the day Slash had died, walking toward me, blood seeping from their chests, heads and legs—whichever part of them I’d hit as I’d fired bullet after bullet into their mortal bodies, ripping them apart and robbing them of life.
“Die,” I hissed, my words slurred, even to my ears. But they kept coming. Next were the hoard of Mexicans Smiler and I had killed most recently, shuffling toward me, their insides bared, faces sunken and sallow, death eating at them like a greedy parasite.
And then I saw him. I fucking saw Slash, head wounded, blood spattering his face and body. His eyes never left mine. My fucking chest cracked at seeing my best friend like this. He moved to sit beside me, studying the men still coming my way. My hands were shaking feeling him so close. I tried to tell myself that none of these people were real, that Slash was buried, already across the River Styx with Hades. But I felt his ice-cold breath on my cheek. I heard him wheezing, struggling for the breath that would to bring him back to life. “Kill them,” he whispered into my ear. The world tilted to the side as he spoke. I was so fucking drunk. So, fucking over everything, I no longer cared.