The Red Roots Read Online Free PDF

French wallpaper while her blood splattered on the peeling seam.
    “You’re bleeding.” Reed’s brows pushed together. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”
    Her feet dragged along the ground as he pulled her through the maze of bullet-riddled cars. Did he say I’m bleeding? Her thoughts lagged though opaque eyes. Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. Clarity was within her reach but still sneered and mocked her from a distance.
    The sequence of their escape mingled with her hallucinations and reality. He helped Isla into the passenger seat and buckled her in. Reed slammed the door and jogged around the front of the car before slipping inside the driver side. He shifted the car and slammed on the gas. Isla slumped against the door and window.
    “Stay awake, Isla. Don’t close your eyes.”
    “I’m awake,” she muttered.
    “Come on, don’t you dare close your eyes.”
    “I . . .”
    “Can you hear me? God damn it.”
    I do. I love you.
    I love you . . .

RONAN SLIPPED HIS shirt on.
    “There is much wicked inside of you, Isla.” He smeared his toe through the drops of red on the floor. “The blood of Satan. Clean it up.”
    Isla scaled the side of the bed. The sheet aided her as she hoisted her torn body onto the mattress. Each inhale scraped against her rib cage, the sting curved her spine.
    Her eyes narrowed. Ronan ran his hand through his silvery hair. A swipe of her blood tinged his sideburn. He walked into the bathroom. She heard water running. Isla willed and pushed up.
    Her body jerked as she stood with heavy limbs. She steadied herself. Isla locked onto the belt. She wasn’t a whore or a sinner. She wasn’t a vile creation from Satan. Ronan was. His defilement crept along her flesh. In her womb Isla carried purity. Beauty amongst the beasts, she’d believe nothing but.
    Evil may have ravaged her body, but her soul was unscathed.
    She fought the fight.
    Ronan would never touch her again.
    With careful fingers, she picked up the belt by the buckle and squeezed the metal. She wrapped the stained leather around her hand. Her open gashes flared with each binding of the belt against her skin.
    Quiet slunk from the bathroom, as did Ronan. He wiped his hands on a towel. Isla cranked her fist back, stepped forward, and fired off the bound leather into his crotch and proceeded with an uppercut to his chin. He crumpled to the floor, groaning, yelling obscenities as blood dripped from his mouth. As the towel fell to his feet, Ronan stepped and slipped backward, shouting her name. With a thud, the back of his head collided with the sink before he landed on the tile.
    Ronan stilled.
    She waited and watched.
    His chest rose and fell.
    The belt unwound from her fist.
    “You clean it up,” Isla gritted.

ISLA CRIED OUT as she jerked awake. Her shoulder pinched and throbbed. Isla blinked—slow—her focus on the fan as it whirled above her. She counted each rotation until the aching subsided, and she could shift her attention elsewhere.
    Her throat was dry, and her lungs tight. Isla coughed. Her hand trailed up her stomach to her rib cage checking her injuries, which were tender. She concentrated on moving her legs.
    Soft fabric brushed across her skin as she turned. The mattress sunk beneath her making it difficult to push up. She ignored the discomfort and worked her body higher against the pillows. Her fingers gripped the sides of the headboard.
    The feelings she experienced reminded her of the day-after-aches from Ronan’s lashings; her body hung over from pangs of disgust.
    Where was she? She remembered Kata, gunshots, sounds . . . Memories rushed around her mind but she wasn’t able to latch onto them.
    Her eyes darted from the furthest corner of the khaki green wall to the fireplace to the snowy sheers. Crisp linens covered her. Isla pushed them down with her feet—her bare feet. Her shoes were gone, as were her jeans and shirt. Isla pulled at the rose frock around her. Her sense of urgency