Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I haven’t seen or heard from the brothers since they dumped me in here, and while that’s probably the best thing to happen to me all day, I’m also at the point where I wish they’d just come and get their bullshit over and done with so they can either let me go or put me out of my misery.
I don’t handle the unknown well. Waiting for the inevitable is what’s going to kill me, but somehow, I think they already know that.
I bet those assholes are sitting up there in their bitch-ass castle, sipping on poison while resting back in their twisted thrones made from the bones of the men, women, and children they’ve slaughtered. Fuck, these assholes should have been born a million years ago. They would have been hailed as ruthless gods, but instead, they’re just known as being fucked in the head.
The cold metal from the door stings my waist as I press myself against it, slamming my hands onto the doorframe and listening to the echoes reverberating off the walls of a long as fuck hallway. “GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, ASSHOLES,” I scream, my throat burning from the raw intensity of my tone. “WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?”
A harrowing laugh sounds through the small cell, the noise bouncing off the walls in every direction. I spin around, pressing my back against the cell door and flicking my gaze from corner to corner. The laugh was so loud, so real. It sounded as though it came from right behind me, but there’s not another soul in here, just me and my racing heart.
“Who’s there?” I demand, my voice breaking as my knees grow weaker by the second. A loud sob tears from the back of my throat and I slowly begin to sink, my back sliding down the cell door and catching against my bare skin. “Who’s there?”
The laugh sounds again, but this time louder, and I can’t help but feel as though someone is watching me. I’ve searched the cell for hours. There are no cameras, no speakers, no wires, cords, or cables. I’m as alone as can be in this fucked-up little dungeon, but I have to believe that I’m not because the only other alternative is that I’m being haunted by the ghosts of past dungeon guests. Honestly, I’d prefer to deal with the brothers than have that twisted thought confirmed.
Tears well in my eyes and I bury my face into my knees, desperately trying to block out the sounds flying around the room, but when a metallic dragging sound pierces through the dungeon, my back straightens and I fly up off the ground.
I turn, spinning to face the door as my eyes widen with fear.
They’re back.
My heart thunders, my pulse beating loudly in my ears, drowning out the other sounds in the cell. My hunger is completely forgotten and my tired eyes remain locked on the door as my breath hitches.
I instantly start backing up, terrified of what or who is about to come striding through the door. It creaks open and I watch as though it’s happening in slow motion, but I don’t dare stop. I keep moving until my back is flush with the wall behind me, the sharp crevices from the bricks digging into my skin.
The heavy door pushes wider, and where I expect to see light pouring in, there’s nothing but shadows.
I see a haunting darkness moving from behind the door, and as the heavy metal drags against the old stones of the ground, a chill sweeps through me. The door gets wider and wider and with each passing second, I feel the weight of the situation bearing down on me, pressing against my chest and making me wish for sweet relief.
My sharp breaths increase until I’m on the verge of hyperventilating, but I do my best to mask it, not wanting them to know just how fucking scared I really am. Though my tear-stained face and the way I cower in the corner is bound to give me away.
As the door fully opens, the shadow gains more shape and I quickly recognize one of the brothers, though his face is masked in heavy darkness and it’s impossible to tell which one he is. That is until he steps deeper into the room and I can make out the distinctive tattoos winding up his neck.
Levi DeAngelis. The youngest brother and questionably the most impulsive. At least, that’s what the news has always alluded to. I guess it’s all that egotistical, needing to prove something to his older brothers bullshit. Or maybe he just got dropped on his head a few too many times as a baby. Either way, he’s not somebody that I want standing this close to me, but I guess none of the brothers are a great option.