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I froze, hearing something bump against a table and a feminine curse. I broke into a jog.
Shoving through the doors that led to where all the girls ate, I spotted one acolyte and two guerillas lying in various places on the floor. All of the
m were dead.
Across the room, Bella was covered in blood, locked into a grapple with Hendrix of all people. The blood didn’t appear to be her own, but that the gutted men she’d turned to corpses.
I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing. I ran for them before he could seriously hurt her. When he heard my footsteps, his already enraged face contorted into something animalistic.
He all but threw Bella across the room, sending her body skirting over one of the tables.
I was smashing into him the next second, sending us both teetering into another table before falling to the floor.
My elbow hit the linoleum, causing me to drop the knife, and sent a strange kind of pain ricocheting up my arm.
“You,” Hendrix seethed, hovering over my body, nostrils flaring.
Bella had gotten him good. There was a gash in his cheek and swelling in his lips.
He reached down and attempted to wrap his hands around my throat. With no other weapon but my body, I reached up and dug the tips of my nails into his face as if they were claws. I dragged them down, feeling some of his skin lift itself and lodge beneath them, scraping through the fleshy part of his face wound.
Six red streaks appeared, three on each cheek.
He bellowed, grabbing hold of my forearms and lifting me from the floor.
He walked forward until my back was colliding with the wall. I swallowed a whimper and fought not to coil inward.
“This is all your fault,” he ground out, slamming me again.
“Get off me,” I growled, bringing my knee up and planting it in his gut.
He released a gust of air and dropped me. I landed on the floor in an undignified heap of limbs and tulle. When I thought he’d lurch for me again, he vanished from where he’d just been standing.
Bella rushed over and pulled me up from the floor. “Are you okay?” she croaked, her neck bright red and bruised from where someone had grabbed her.
“I should be asking you that.”
“This is nothing,” she replied dismissively.
I watched Luce handle Hendrix as if he weighed nothing. The knife he’d given me back in his hand, he jammed into Hendrix’s lower gut and began to twist as he dragged it over, then straight up, slicing clean through his belly button.
He was saying something too low for us to hear above Hendrix yelling. He retraced the incision he’d just made, ending Hendrix’s screams as he began to asphyxiate on his blood.
Crimson spilled out of him like a waterfall, bits of his innards dangling the more Luce split him apart. The smell that followed was worse than seeing Luce gut him alive. It was raw flesh and guts, the stench reminding me of rotting fish, but worse.
When Luce finally withdrew his blade, something popped.
Luce dropped him, then crouched and used Hendrix’s thick head of hair to clean his blade, putting it back in his holster before standing to face us.
“Go,” he directed at Bella.
She released me and took off for the exit as if something was chasing her.
Luce planted himself right in front of me, covered in twice the amount of blood his sister was. His eyes were so dark it almost didn’t look as if he had any. He looked me over from head to toe, pausing for a moment when he saw the bruises where Hendrix had grabbed me. They would be faded within two days, nothing serious.
I glanced over to where Hendrix was lying lifeless on the floor, then back up at Luce. “I’m okay,” I assured him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He grabbed hold of my hips, smearing blood onto my tulle.
