That’s when I moved.
I stood to the side and wrenched open the door. A man I vaguely recognized from the second floor fell inside. Late thirties. Gym shorts. Blood smeared across his mouth and chin. His eyes were cloudy. Wild.
Empty.
He lunged.
I sidestepped, seized his wrist, and with strength I didn’t know I had, forced his arm down. He hit the wall with a thud but didn’t appear to feel or register the pain.
The man snapped at me.
I shoved him back hard, using momentum instead of force, and he stumbled—but didn’t fall. He came at me again, faster this time.
I didn’t hesitate and grabbed the fire extinguisher outside my door, landing a solid hit against his temple. Once. Twice.
He went down, twitching. The side of his head caved in.
I backed away slowly, pulse steady, my eyes cataloging every detail even as my shaking hands tightened around the metal.
I returned to my apartment and washed my hands several times. Longer than was necessary. More for my peace of mind than anything else. I knew I was most likely in shock after killing a man, but I had to put it in the back of my mind. Taryn was my priority, and I couldn’t waste time dealing with my trauma.
I left the apartment for what I was certain was the last time without looking back.
The elevator chimed behind me. I drew my gun, but when the doors opened, no one stepped out.
The door closed. I didn’t wait around to see if it would happen again.
I took the stairs, and after hearing several growls from below. I exited on the second floor.
It seemed like things had escalated in the few minutes I was inside my apartment.
I noticed a woman leaning against the wall, her knees drawn close to her chest. She gently rocked, softly mumbling incoherent words, face flushed with fever. One hand was placed on the tiled surface next to her, stained dark with a sticky, dried substance.
She didn’t look up when I passed.
I took an alternate stairway and reached the exit without further incident.
Outside, the parking lot felt wrong. I could hear screams in the distance and saw a plume of smoke that looked like a large fire.
A sedan idled near the road, turn signal ticking endlessly, the driver’s door hanging open.
A shopping cart lay on its side near the curb, groceries spilled across the concrete—scattered like someone had gone through it without knowing quite what they were searching for.
Across the street, two men shouted at each other, movements sharp and erratic, bodies pitched forward, growls emanating from their mouths.
I didn’t slow down.
I reached my truck, unlocked it, and got inside, locking the doors before I was fully seated. Only then did I take a calm, deliberate breath, glancing at the mirrors, exits, and blind spots.
I pulled out of the lot and merged into traffic that barely moved, the city grinding forward on momentum alone.
I needed to get to Taryn.
Now.
CHAPTER NINE
TARYN
