Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Oh yes, he will, especially when the alternative is worse. Besides, we need it to be him. It’ll lend legitimacy to the arrangement in my father’s eyes.” Calder starts preparing food with efficient, competent movements. “I need to feed you.”
I watch him work, all while my mind races with potential plans. What if I escaped? What if we went on the run? Could I convince my father to go with me? Could we disappear somewhere the Bishops couldn’t find us?
Even as I think it, I know the answer. The Bishops own half of Montana. Their reach extends beyond Black Hollow Creek. Plus, there’s Allie—what would happen to her if we ran?
Dread wraps around me. I’m trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but enough for Calder to cook.
When he brings me a plate, I eat mechanically, not really tasting anything. He sits across from me at the small table, his presence overwhelming in the confined space.
Every bite of food feels like I’m swallowing stones.
Tense silence stretches between us. His gaze roams my body, studying me, measuring my reactions. When we’re done, he washes the dishes while I sit on the bed, wrapped in my mother’s quilt like armor.
“While our marriage is fake, it will be legitimate to everyone else. That means even after you’re safe, once my father is no longer a threat to us, we stay married.” Calder says. His expression is serious, almost grim. “Once you’re mine, you’ll stay mine. Bishop marriages don’t end in divorce. If you agree to this, it’s permanent.”
The finality of his words makes my chest tight. He claims this is survival, but the choice I make today will dictate my entire existence.
“This—” I can’t even wrap my head around it. “This is a big choice. My entire life, and future is on the line.”
“Technically, it’s bigger than that, but yes.”
“Explain to me again what is going to happen.”
“The rodeo is our deadline. The plan is to show up together, married. Doing this forces my father to accept it. Questioning it too hard will make him look weak. Bishops don’t do anything that makes them look weak,” he explains.
I want to disappear. To wake up from this terrible nightmare.
“I need water,” I say, my voice barely audible.
He nods, and turns back toward the kitchen, walking over to the pump. He pumps some water into a cup. He still has his back to me when the thought hits me.
I can’t explain it. All I can do is let instinct guide me.
The beat of my heart is so loud I can hear it in my ears as I slide off the bed. My eyes land on the cast iron pan hanging by the camp stove. It’s within reach. I grab it before I can think better of it. The weight of it is unfamiliar in my trembling hands as I lift it carefully. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. Never wanted to hurt anyone. My parents raised me to turn the other cheek, to forgive, to show mercy. I can’t this time. There’s too much at risk.
I can’t marry him. Can’t become a Bishop. Can’t let him drag me to my father tomorrow and force this lie onto everyone I love. I refuse to spend the rest of my life as the captive wife of a killer, pretending to love the man who destroyed everything.
I have to try. To do something. Even if it’s hopeless. Even if he catches me. Even if I die trying. I’ll run. I’ll get my father, and Allie, and we can all disappear together. Maybe go back to Seattle where the Bishops can’t reach us. Even if they do, at least I made a choice.
Calder turns around, the cup in hand. His blue eyes widen with shock when he sees me standing there, the pan raised in the air.
“Saint, don’t—”
I swing with everything I have.
The pan connects with the side of his head, and a sickening thunk reverberates up my arms. Calder staggers backward, the cup falling from his hand, making water splash across the floor in an arc. He presses a hand to the side of his head, and I catch sight of the bright red blood seeping between his fingers. Oh God. I did that. I hurt him.
I drop the pan on the floor, and it lands with a loud clatter.
“Jesus Christ,” he growls.
I don’t think about what I’ve done. I just move. I dig into his pockets to snag his truck keys, then stab my feet into a spare pair of boots by the door, hugging the blanket tighter around my frame.
No chain to stop me this time. Nothing but open space between me and freedom.
My hands fumble with the latch, precious seconds ticking away, and then—
The door flies open, and I rush into the night. Snow hits me immediately, stinging my face like a thousand tiny needles, the cold so intense it steals my breath. I’m wearing only sweatpants and a flannel shirt, no coat, and too big boots. Nothing to protect me from a blizzard like this.