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When I turned the corner into Fifth Avenue my blood was pounding in my ears. Block Twelve was down at the bottom end, and I was cursing all the way, still gripping that damn clutch under my arm as my damn knife bayed for his blood.
Block Twelve was a dive. The top floor had lights on in murky orange. I checked the main entrance but the keys didn’t fit the lock, and that’s when I saw it – the glimpse of a metal railing up by the top floor. The entrance doorway was up there.
I was an animal as I raced around to that staircase. I leaped up the rusty metal steps three at a time, and I could hear her. I could hear my Elaine inside there, and she was crying out.
Holy fuck, she was crying out. Crying out loud, crying out hard, crying out for help. My Elaine was crying out for help.
I’d never felt anything like the protective cesspit of rage inside me. It was scorching. Burning. Ready for the kill.
I didn’t need the key, just barged my way right in, and there she was, up against the wall with that cunt up against her, her dress hitched up high around her waist. He turned to face me with a sneer, but I wasn’t interested in his face, I was interested in hers. There were tears running down her beautiful cheeks, her eyes big and glassy as they saw me there . . . and the rage in me exploded. It exploded in liquid hate.
“What the–?” the prick began, but he didn’t get the chance to finish.
In the quickest flash of my life I was up against him, slamming against him hard as my hand reached inside my jacket.
And in that flicker of a heartbeat the blade went into his guts.
Take it.
Take it, cunt.
Once. Twice. Three times. I twisted that blade and fucked up his insides like the mess of a man he was.
His mouth opened, and he paled, and he knew it, even as he stumbled away with his hands to his stomach, he knew it. He was dying. He collapsed, and I stared down at him with a sneer of my own. The knife hung limp in my hand, blood splattered everywhere, including over my beautiful Constantine bitch’s dress.
And that’s when she truly started crying.20ElaineI could hear my tears. Loud sobs from my chest as it heaved and lurched. I could hear them, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything, just the buzz in my ears as I stared over at the man with the knife in his hand.
Lucian.
Lucian Morelli was really there. Really standing there with a bloody knife in his hand, staring at the man he’d just butchered. He’d just butchered Stephen from London. He’d just butchered Stephen from London for me. To save me.
There was blood on me too, splattered all over my dress. The fabric was still hitched up above my thighs, my panties still torn at the seam where Stephen from London was trying to get inside me.
He didn’t get inside me. Thank God, he didn’t get inside me.
Lucian didn’t speak, just stared. His jaw was gritted as he looked over at me, and that’s when it all came crashing in, the vivid colors, and the sounds, and the smells.
Stephen from London was still gurgling as he took his last breaths. I could see the blood bubbling from his mouth, dripping down the side of his face, and his hands were still trying to clasp the wound in his stomach. He was failing.
Stephen was dying, and Lucian didn’t show even a flutter of regret. There was nothing in him, nothing but hate.
I pressed tighter against the wall as he gestured the knife at me, and that’s when I realized just how badly I was shaking.
“Did he fuck you?”
“What?” I asked, in barely more than a breath.
“I said, did he fuck you?”
I shook my head. “No. He . . . he couldn’t . . . I didn’t let him . . .”
He didn’t reply to that, just stepped closer to the man on the floor and kicked aside his hands from his wound.
“What the fuck were you doing here with this sonofabitch?” the Morelli monster snapped at me, and I tried to answer that, but my voice was still stunted.
“I . . . I . . .”
The monster was on me in a flash, pressing me tight to the wall, his breaths fierce. This time his voice was a snarl.
“I said, what the fuck were you doing here with that sonofabitch, Elaine?”
“I don’t know!” I blurted, and the sobs were so hard they were hurting. “I don’t know . . . I just wanted . . . I just wanted . . .”
“WHAT?” he barked, right in my face. “WHAT DID YOU WANT?”
