Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I swallowed hard. I hadn’t considered it from that angle yet. In all the time I had been down here, nobody had dared to touch me inappropriately, so maybe my father still wanted to marry me off.
Nestore got up and walked over to the bars separating us. He gripped them and looked at me with fierce determination. “I’ll protect you, Amelia. Somehow, someway. When someone comes in, you get as close to my cell as possible so I can reach through the bars and attack them.” He pulled the bloody pen from his pocket as if to remind me what he could do, when I hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
I got up from the bed and moved toward him, smiling slightly. I grabbed the bars below his hands. He leaned his head against the bars, and I brought my face up so our foreheads touched. The small touch sent a wave of warmth into my belly.
Eventually, Nestore and I returned to our respective spots, me reading the same book for the hundredth time and Nestore doing crunches. I admired his discipline. Some days, I barely had the energy to go to the toilet.
An explosion above shook the bars, followed by more bangs, screams, and shots.
I froze, unsure what to do. Nestore’s alert gaze flitted from me to the ceiling.
The door to the basement banged open, and one of the guards rushed in. He moved toward Nestore’s cell and fumbled with the keys because his hands shook so much. What was going on?
I got up from my bed, anxiety filling my body. “Where are you taking him?”
The man ignored me and finally found the correct key to unlock Nestore’s cell.
Nestore remained on the floor, but something in his eyes reminded me of a tiger on the verge of leaping. He didn’t look worried. He looked determined.
The guard ripped open the door and stepped in. “Get up!” he ordered as he stalked toward Nestore, who remained on the ground. But I noticed the tightening of his muscles, the preparation for something as the guard towered above him.
The split second before Nestore shoved to his feet and lunged at our guard, his face turned into something alien, something so consumed by violence that for the first time in my life I felt a flicker of fear toward the boy I loved with all my heart. I rushed forward, pressing against the bars, fear clogging my throat.
Nestore collided with the guard and clawed at his eyes. Then, with a warlike scream that pierced my soul and heart, he sank his teeth into the man’s throat. Blood spurted everywhere when he jerked his head back with a chunk of flesh between his white teeth.
I sank to my knees, clutching at the bars as I watched Nestore become a vicious beast. The man’s pained screech died in a gurgle. Upstairs, more gunshots rang out, followed by shouts and screams. When the guard stopped struggling, Nestore lifted his head, the muscles in his back flexing with every pant.
Nestore turned to me, baring his teeth in a terrifying smile. Madness shone in his eyes. Now that he’d tasted the addicting tang of violence, he’d want more. I could see it in every beautiful line of his face.
I shuddered. Nestore pushed to his feet, grabbed the keys from the floor and a knife from a holster at the dead man’s waist, then walked up to the door to my cell. The sound of the lock turning made me shiver. I still knelt on the floor, staring at the pool of blood slowly extending toward me. Nestore took me by the arms and pulled me to my feet. I blinked up at his tall form, trying not to linger on the blood on his chin and chest.
“We need to leave,” I whispered. “This isn’t our fight.”
Nestore’s gaze moved to the ceiling, his eyes becoming distant as he listened to the sounds of fighting—shots, heavy thuds like bodies hitting the floor, and agonized screams.
I took his free hand, the one that wasn’t clutching a knife. “Nestore. We must leave.”
The moment he looked back down at me, I knew he couldn’t leave. An apologetic gleam filled his eyes.
“This is my fight, dove. It’s always been. I can’t leave.”
After everything he had to endure, why couldn’t he seek safety? Why did he want to risk everything again? And for what? “Why? Is this about power?”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes lighting up with resolve. “Power means I’ll be able to protect you.”
“We could go somewhere safe, somewhere you wouldn’t have to protect me. Somewhere we can both find peace and live a normal life.”
He gave me a bitter smile. “Peace.” He tested the word as if it were unfamiliar, and maybe it was.
Another bang sounded, much closer this time. Nestore’s grip on me tightened, and he tugged me toward the emergency exit, then up the first flight of stairs before we burst into the corridor in front of the kitchen. A body lay motionless in the doorway in an ocean of its own blood. The man’s throat had been cut. I swallowed hard, my belly turning. In the past, the sight would have made me throw up, but I had seen too much. Nestore’s grip on my hand tightened as he tugged me past the corpse without an outward reaction. The shots and explosions and screams had stopped, but the low murmur of voices told me we weren’t alone. Where was Father?