AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He shrugs his shoulders before moving back across the room toward the front door. I follow him out into the hall, and he ducks back inside the door to turn out the lights. “I just don’t like leaving her, but she’ll be more comfortable to shed alone. She likes this enclosure best.”
“Oh really?” I ask, feeling as though I’m learning so much about what it means to be a snake dad. “Does it take long?”
“No, it shouldn’t,” he says, closing the door behind him and making sure to lock the deadbolt—something he probably wouldn’t bother doing if he planned to stay the night. It’s a little sweet the way he tries to protect Venom while she’s here alone. “I’ll swing by in the morning and check on her. She should be good.”
A smile pulls at the corners of my lips, and as if sensing us in the hallway, Zade and Dalton appear, ready to get their asses out of here. Without another word, we stride back out of the old, worn apartment complex and pile into Zade’s SUV, every passing second leaving me more and more convinced that Easton isn’t the monster I originally thought him to be.
He’s broody and probably the hardest to get a word out of, but today felt different with him. He was honest with me, and while he wasn’t telling me anything particularly important, that doesn’t change the fact that he was opening that line of communication, allowing me the chance to get closer to him. And shit, I think I liked it.
It’s one thing letting him rail me, but now, just like with Dalton, I’m getting confused. I think I like him, but liking him gives him the power to hurt me, and the idea alone is scary as fuck.
My heart races, and I find myself watching him as he sits up front beside Zade in the driver’s seat. As we make our way back to the DeVil Hotel, I find my hand resting against my thigh, Easton’s cross right below my palm.
Chapter 17
OAKLEY
Twenty-four days left.
Fuck.
Every single morning I get to wake up and spend another day surviving is a blessing, but when that little clock goes off inside my mind, I’m reminded just how much time I don’t have.
In the grand scheme of things, twenty-four days is quite a lot. I could do plenty of things in that time, like somehow escape these guys I’ve been slowly falling for and find a way to save my dad. But it’s been days since I got out of that prison, and I’m not even an inch closer to saving myself. Though having said that, it’s also been days since Joe shoved my unconscious body into the back of a car, and the boys aren’t any closer to finding out who was behind that, either.
It’s just after ten when I finally roll my ass out of bed and make my way into the bathroom. Zade got up and left ages ago, something I’m starting to notice has become routine for him. It’s not as though he’s going to come right out and say it, but it’s pretty damn obvious it’s his way of avoiding me.
I’ve left him alone these past few days, not pushing him too much in the hopes he might loosen the reins a little. While the whole living situation has become calmer, he’s not stupid. If anything, he’s tightened the metaphorical collar around my throat. He comes to bed now and just stares at the ceiling, not daring to fall asleep before I do. I haven’t pried for any more information like I did that first night, and he hasn’t attempted to offer me anything either. It’s like two perfect strangers sleeping in the same bed.
Lifting my gaze to the bathroom mirror, I wipe away the tear that sits on my cheek. It’s the same every morning. Every time another day ticks by, and I find myself having to scrub a line from the mental tally that haunts me, the tears start to flow. Most of the time, I can pull myself together and put on a brave face for the guys, but I know they see my pain—especially Easton. He’s so observant. Dalton and Sawyer can see it too, but I don’t think they really grasp just how much it’s weighing down on my shoulders.
I’m running out of time, and my desperation is starting to suffocate me.
After quickly brushing my teeth, I glance over Dalton’s shirt hanging low around my knees, making sure it’s clean enough to spend another day in. Zade still hasn’t returned my clothes.
Grabbing the brush, I start working on my hair and realize just how bad it is. My soft blonde curls are messy and dry, and considering I haven’t slathered bleach through them since leaving Missouri, my roots are a hot mess.
