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“Yeah, I guess…” Tatum’s eyes jerk back to me, and his face hardens with a new resolve. “We’d be stupid to turn down Callum’s present, anyway.”
The friend laughs as he dumps Carlotta’s body on the ground. The side of her head smacks roughly against the tile, and a surge of rage replaces the terror in my veins.
“You fucking asshole!” I scream, lunging sideways in the friend’s direction with my hands ready to strike. I manage to rake my fingernails across his face before Tatum pulls me away, tossing my body across the room as easily as you would a baseball. My head smacks against the mirror, and a loud ringing replaces the friend’s howls of pain as a sharp pressure builds behind my eyes.
I’m vaguely aware of Tatum stomping over to me, but I can’t seem to move as the room fades in and out of focus. It’s like I’m in a dream, like my body isn’t mine and isn’t going to listen to any commands I give it.
“You’re going to pay for that, you little cunt.” Tatum’s eyes are pitch black as he swoops down, gripping my shoulders in two meaty palms. It hurts, but not nearly as much as the splitting pain in my temple. If anything, the feel of him against my skin clears some of my fog.
A piece of the mirror cracks under Tatum’s boot, and I know then what I have to do to survive this. With one hand, I reach up and cup his face, lowering my lashes seductively like I’ve seen so many of the girls in the club do.
Tatum looks surprised by my change in temperament but doesn’t seem to give it a second thought. His wounded friend long forgotten, he leans in closer, loosening his grip slightly.
“Kain’s trained you, huh? Does that mean you’re going to be a good little slut and comply?”
Bile threatening to spew from my mouth, I give him a wordless nod, hoping he mistakes the disgusted shiver running through me for one of desire. His mouth crashes against mine, and even though all I want is to pull away and vomit, I push into him further. He’s so entranced, he doesn’t notice my other hand wrapping around the large glass shard in the base of the sink. The jagged edges pierce my skin, but I’m numb to the pain as I position my hand like Kain showed me all those nights ago. It’s not a dagger, but I’m praying the technique applies to anything sharp and pointy.
I suck in a breath and pull back slightly, keeping my lashes lowered with a pout so he doesn’t expect anything. He tilts his head to the side, his mouth twisted with a smirk as he leans in for another kiss. That’s when I jam the mirror into the crook of his shoulder.
It doesn’t go very deep, but the shock of it is enough to make him stumble back. With a bellow of pain, his hand shoots up and pinches the area in an attempt to quell the blood oozing from the stab wound.
“You fucking cunt,” he hisses, his eyes alight with a murderous sheen. “You’re going to pay for that.”
He steps toward me, and the bathroom door slams open, sending splinters of wood flying through the air as the lock is ripped from the frame. Kain ducks inside, and a hellish energy fills the room as he locks eyes with me.
“Did he touch you?”
I don’t even have time to nod. Taking one look at me, he turns to Tatum with an expression I’ve never seen before. Not disgust, or rage, or even hate. Something dark. Something unholy.
“Look, man, I was just following orders.” Tatum holds his hand up in defense as Kain takes a step toward him. “Take it up with Callum if you have an issue.”
Kain cocks his head. He reaches an arm behind his head, and that’s when I notice the hilt of a dagger protruding from his shoulder. Bloodied fingers curl around the handle, but he doesn’t remove the blade, just stands there staring at Tatum.
“Trying to intimidate me? Fuck you,” Tatum hisses, crossing his arms with a haughty expression. “I’m Callum’s second. You’re not gonna do shi—”
It happens so fast, I only realize Kain has slit his throat when Tatum stumbles back, choking on the life seeping through the thin line below his Adam’s apple. With wide eyes, his hands wrap around his neck, his mouth opening and closing like a guppy as he tries to breathe through the severed windpipe. Blood pools through the slits of his fingers and down his neck, drenching the collar of his leather jacket. A sickening gurgling noise fills the space, and my stomach flips as I watch the color drain from his cheeks.
Kain steps in front of me, blocking the dying man from my line of sight. “Earmuffs, flower.” My brows come together as Kain places my own hands over my ears. “Close your eyes and hum. You don’t need to know what’s about to happen.”
“But I—”
“You’ve already seen enough.” Kain shoots me a warning look, and I do as he says. His hand lingers on my skin for a moment, and then he’s gone, leaving me in the dark.
Even with my furious humming, it’s not enough to drown out the screams Kain draws from Tatum’s friend. I’ve never heard a man make the sounds that pour from his mouth, and now, I’m thankful Kain didn’t let me watch.
I jump when Kain’s hand lands on my knee, but at the same time, a wave of relief floods my veins. My hands slide from my ears, and I open my eyes, but the only thing I’m able to see are the lines on Kain’s palm.
“It’s not safe to look. Are you okay?” he asks, the tenderness in his voice a sharp contrast to the violence I just witnessed. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, and Kain hisses a sigh of relief as he crushes me to his chest.
“Kain? You’re squishing me.” I push weakly against his chest, and he tightens his grip. “Kain?”
“I know,” he growls, his fingertips digging into my skin.
“Carlotta—”
“She’s fine.” He kisses the top of my head tenderly. “I checked her. She’s breathing. Just a concussion.”
