Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“You need to go, Bitty,” he said. “I’ve got business to take care of.”
Jumping to her feet, she nodded like a bobblehead. “I shouldn’t have bothered you—”
The Brother reached out and took her hand. As those diamond eyes bored into her own with an earnest regard, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
“You did the right thing,” he repeated. “And I’ll never tell you not to talk to your parents, but outside of that? Let’s keep this quiet.”
“I’ll do that. I promise.”
“You can always come to me, anytime. About this or anything else. You know my rules, though. Health or safety, and I have to go to your parents or even higher up the food chain.”
“I understand. That’s what we do at Safe Place.” She focused on the glowing floor. “I need to know, though. Do you have any idea what this is about?”
The grave way he shook his head seemed like regret at the situation, rather than a denial.
“You’ve got to go now, sweetheart. You know where to find me.”
The exit opened on its own, as if he had willed it so, and she made a mumbling, stumbling departure. As she went down the aisle between all the IT workstations, none of the males or females looked up, and she couldn’t decide whether her invisibility made her feel better or totally lost—
At the opposite end of the open space, the inner entrance to the facility opened, and as Bitty got a gander at who’d arrived, she immediately hopped to the side to clear the way.
L.W.’s father, the great Blind King, stepped through the jambs with his service dog and his private guard—and the imposing male seemed to take up all of the space and air in the entire building. As a ripple of fear went through Bitty, she didn’t get it. She’d been around Wrath before, going all the way back to when the Brotherhood and their families had lived together in the mansion on the mountain. Sure, she hadn’t seen him much after the Brotherhood had moved off the estate and into that subterranean village in the ’burbs, but she’d been at the new Audience House from time to time and run into him there. More to the point, he’d never once been mean to her, no matter how hard his expression always was.
Bitty narrowed her eyes. Still, there was something… different about him now.
Then again, maybe her nerves were just plain shot. And anyway, the King wasn’t even paying attention to her. He was focused straight ahead, his wraparounds trained on Vishous’s office—while that Brother slowly stood up from his desk chair and came forward with an expression of shock.
Even though Bitty knew she was staring, she couldn’t look away as the two stopped in the doorway of the glass office.
“About time,” Vishous said roughly to the King. “What took you thirty years.”
Wrath laughed in a low rumble. “Leave it to you to be unimpressed, even by a miracle.”
“Is that what this is?”
“You want me to go back where I came from?”
“Nah. I think we’ll keep ya.”
The embrace between the males was a hard, back-thumping one, as if they had been parted by much passage of time and vast distances. Which made no sense. They saw each other every night in front of civilians—
Over the King’s shoulder, Vishous’s eyes shifted to Bitty, and she ducked her head and hustled out, bypassing a number of uncles who had congregated at the entrance. Her father wasn’t among the other Brothers, though.
Just as well. She wasn’t sure what she would tell him about tonight.
As she stepped out into the snow, she looked across at the cozy cottage where the audiences were conducted. Then she glanced back at the steel door, and felt like some kind of reset had happened, some piece that had been missing returning to its rightful place.
Except that was crazy, she told herself as she dematerialized back home.
Nothing had changed in the first place.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The flames of the bonfire licked into the darkness and plumes of smoke swirled around in the cold wind. As light flickered out from the blaze, the illumination cascaded over the winter landscape, enlivening the bare-limbed trees and the pristine snow cover.
Nate stood upwind of it all. He didn’t like the smell of burning flesh, not even when it was something edible on a grill, and the gasoline he’d used as an accelerant wasn’t any better in his nose. He’d used the latter, though, because there was a lot to burn up. Most of it was Mickey Trix’s body, but he’d also tossed in the pants he’d been wearing when he’d done the job on the guy, and the towel he’d wiped his bloody hands on when he’d had to go greet Shuli.
While he watched the combustion, images played in his mind, and none of them made him feel any better—