Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Fiery heat engulfs us from all sides and I’m helpless to do anything.
Blackness blankets over me and frees me from hell.
“I’ve got you, son,” a deep voice rumbles. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
The pain slams into me and I start coughing again. Wait, is someone carrying me? It’s not until the cool air outside allows me to take a smoke-free breath that clarity seizes my mind.
“Mom!” I croak out, my voice barely a whisper. “Mom!”
“We’ve got the other one,” another man yells. “Let’s go!”
Several men rush past us, toward the fire, while we run away. I strain in the man’s hold, whimpering against the pain, searching for my mother.
“Where is she?” I rasp. “Where’s my mom?”
I’m once again ignored as I’m passed off to a couple of EMTs. Overwhelming pain blots out the commotion around me, once more sending me into peaceful darkness.
I wake to a faint beeping sound. I’m no longer hurting like I was. In fact, I feel as though I’m floating on a cloud. Worry niggles at me, desperately trying to remind me of something.
What is it?
Slowly, I crack open my eyes, needing to get off this cloud as soon as possible. Everything around me is bright and sterile.
I’m in a bed. A hospital bed.
I drag my stare over my arms, which are wrapped heavily in gauze. Memories sting the back of my mind like tiny pinpricks.
Fire.
Smoke.
Mom.
Voices rumble from nearby, earning my attention. I follow the sound to where Dad and Uncle Theo stand, speaking lowly to one another. Hugo and Callum must be with Mom. A relieved sound escapes me. I remember the firefighters getting her out of the fire too.
Dad pauses and jerks his head my way. With tears in his eyes, he rushes over to me. I watch as he bats at his cheeks to swipe them away before the sadness in his expression permeates the fog I’m in.
“Jude, Son, I’m sorry.”
I’m barely able to shake my head. Whatever he’s about to say, I don’t want to hear it. I can’t. I can’t handle what he’s about to say.
He sniffles and closes his eyes. Then, with a ragged huff, he says, “Your mom didn’t make it. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Mom didn’t make it.
Mom didn’t make it.
Staring down at my bandaged hands with tears steadily streaming down my cheeks, I shudder as his words fully sink in.
I was there and managed to save myself, but I couldn’t save her.
I’m a monster.
A useless failure of a monster.
I should have died too.
Tate
Present Day
Fired. Again.
It’s not that I’m not good at my job. In fact, I’m great at my job. I worked my ass off in school to climb out of the cesspool I came from. To be something better than what I was expected to be.
To become someone.
Only problem is, with a last name like Prince, you’re bound to attract a bunch of frogs. In my case, my most recent frog has made it his mission in life to destroy me.
I shudder at remembering the look of disgust on my last employer’s face. She called me a delinquent. A damn heathen. I wish I could say I was surprised, but since this crap kept happening on repeat, I calmly gathered my things, not at all shocked, went back to my lonely apartment, and then cried all of my woes to my cat, Funky.
But things are changing.
Well, one particular phone call was the catalyst of change.
A wealthy man named Nathan Park wanted to hire me—me!—to be the private therapist for his entire family on some huge compound they all live on. Apparently, they’ve all got issues and I’m their magical solution.
Me.
Tatum Oliver Prince.
Dread consumes me as I follow my GPS, making the turn down the road that will take me to my destination.
How long until I’m fired from this job too?
Nathan promised to be discreet and to pay me under the table. Not to mention, I’ll be given free room and board. My apartment will sit empty like a tomb, cold and welcoming for frogs, but free of me.
God.
Freedom is so close I can taste it.
So why the underlying panic?
Why the dread that’s consuming me?
Anytime something felt easy in my life, I was immediately proved wrong. And yet, I still keep believing my life will take a turn for the better. That I can be free of the chains of my past and actually find happiness.
I pass by three really nice houses, wondering which one I’m supposed to be living at. But none of them boast of the address I’m looking for. I continue down the road until a monstrous, dilapidated home comes into view, sitting at the bottom of Park Mountain like some grumpy gargoyle.
My heart rate picks up.
Of course I’d have to live in the one that looks haunted.
“Funky, we’re home,” I say, voice tight. “I promise we’ll be safe here.”