All He’ll Ever Be (Merciless World Series Book 1)

Carter never changed the lock.

It’s funny how regret sweeps through me as I open the front door. My hand is heavy with it and as I look over my shoulder, back down the hall, so are my legs. When I put my hand to the scanner, I didn’t expect for it to work. I didn’t think it would be so effortless.

Saying goodbye is never easy. Especially the kind of goodbye that’s final. The kind that hurts to say out loud, but it hurts even more when buried deep down inside.

I only stand in the doorway for a moment before I feel the breeze in the early evening air. I’m surprised no one’s running down the hall when I close the door behind me.

Even more surprised when I wrap my arms around myself, careful with my left shoulder, although it’s feeling better now with the pain pills I found in the half bath’s medicine cabinet.

The wind brushes my hair from my shoulder, exposing my skin to the cold. Goosebumps flow over my skin as I take each step down, each step farther away from Carter.

Part of me wonders if he’s watching. Another part knows that he is.

He won’t let me get far. I already know that, but I need to know how far he’ll allow before someone will come and scoop me up to take me back to him.

Whether it happens today, or tomorrow, or a week from now, I’ll never stop trying to leave. I repeat those words in my head as I take another step.

I don’t think of the reasons. There are too many at this point, and only the outcome matters.

I can’t stay here any longer. This isn’t the life I want. It’s never been more clear than it is now.

My pace doesn’t slow until I get to a metal gate at the end of the drive. I hadn’t seen it before through all the trees, and I guess it was open last time the cars drove through.

I can’t imagine they keep anything out but vehicles, because the gaps in the intricate metal are plenty wide enough for a person to pass through.

And I do.

My fingers grip the cold iron and I duck my head as I turn to slip through the bars.

Peering back at the house, I know he’s watching and when I turn back to the remaining driveway that carries on for at least a quarter mile and then weaves through a thick forest, I know he’s going to stop me soon. The cameras at the top of the gate swivel, following me.

My heart flickers weakly. The stupid thing doesn’t understand. It’s still filled with hope.

There’s no hope though. There never was.