AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Do you really think he’s going to listen to you?
I squeeze my eyes closed and inhale a deep breath.
It might have been rash coming up here, but wasting time hoping and praying the Barkers wouldn’t strike out against Dad for what he did wasn’t an option I could choose.
Not when there was something I could do about it.
Not after seeing that note pinned to the door with an axe.
I ease off the brake and roll up to the front of the dark house, throwing the car into park. My breath catches in my chest, and I force myself to take several deep fortifying inhalations before I turn off the engine and step out, sliding my keys into the small cross-body purse that holds little more than my lipstick and phone.
The cold night wind whips around me, bringing with it the smell of the first fall leaves, decaying plant matter, and a hint of the threat of snow, even though it’s still early in the season for that at this elevation.
Up here, things are so different than down in town.
Wilder.
More dangerous and unpredictable.
Just like the man I’m about to plead with.
The house stands gloomy and ominous, soaring over me, dwarfing me with its size and presence. Even without a sign, it screams, “Get away! Do not enter! No trespassing, if you know what’s good for you.”
I’ve always been a rule follower, but not today.
Today, I can’t be.
I stare down at my heels in the uneven gravel that leads to the porch and wince. Not the best foot attire for the location, but I needed to look my best, present something he might actually be interested in.
Instead of coming in my usual sweats and T-shirt with my hair tossed up in a messy bun, my honey-colored curls float around my face and down over my shoulders, courtesy of the curling iron I haven’t used in years.
I glance at the side mirror, checking the makeup I applied after I dragged out the bag that I hadn’t touched in God knows how long from under my sink.
The woman who stares back at me isn’t me.
She isn’t the librarian who spends all her time outside the library in her home one, curled up with a book and a mug of hot cocoa.
I feel like make-believe Barbie, but the tight black dress and the red stilettos left over from my twenties were all I really had that I thought might interest a man like The Beast, one who undoubtedly could have any woman in the state he wants and probably has.
No amount of smoky liner or mascara can hide the fear in the green eyes staring back at me in the mirror.
You got this.
I take a step away from the car, and my ankle starts to buckle, but I quickly grab the hood to right myself, then try to find my balance.
Shit.
That was smooth.
It’ll be a lot harder to seduce The Beast with a broken ankle.
I carefully make my way to the porch. Each step ramps up my heart, making it gallop against my ribcage. Blood thunders through my ears, and I take the three creaking treads up onto the old planks that lead to the double front doors.
The click, click, click of my heels on the aging wood echoes in the still night, filling the clearing around the house, and something rustles in the trees to my left.
I whip my head in that direction but can’t see anything in the pitch-black forest.
All the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and another shiver rolls through me as I search for the source.
