Taking another step forward, he clumsily pulls a gun from his waistband. An old Glock, it looks like it’s barely been used. Dryly, I roll my eyes, a lick of annoyance hitting me. He’s seriously putting a damper on my night’s plans with this shit.
“Really? A gun. Do you even know how to shoot?”
He waves it around and clearly—no, he doesn’t. “Stay back.”
“Here’s the problem with guns,” I say conversationally. “They’re great for long distance. But up close?” I grip the barrel, my strength overpowering him, and I raise the tip over my head. “They’re useless.”
He struggles, and I slam him back. In the midst of his idiocy, the gun goes off, shooting over my shoulder. A soft gasp floats through the air, kissing my ear like a confession.
Somehow, like her presence torments me, I know it’s Maeve.
Swinging my right fist into his face, he crumples at my feet. My knuckles sing, pain radiating up my forearm, but it feels good—I feel alive. Taking out my second blade, I use both as makeshift pruning shears and hold them to his neck. “Any last words?” I growl, tension leaking into the air.
I cut him as his mouth opens. I don’t care about last words. Exchange them with the angels of death. I’m not here to listen to your sins.
Stalking back to the front of the alley, I find Maeve on the ground, holding her side.
Fuck. Cold panic slams into my chest, and I can’t get a full breath.
“Goddammit, Princess,” I curse, kneeling at her side. The blood seeps into her white shirt, a wicked red rose. “Why the fuck can’t you listen?”
“You don’t give the orders, Linwood,” she grunts, agony coating her words.
“If you had listened, you’d be home, not bleeding out in an alley.”
“Like this is any different from my usual nights?”
Running a hand through my tousled locks, I glare at her. “You’re going to die unless you get that handled.”
She snorts. “I’ve survived worse.” It sounds bittersweet.
“You have a death wish.” She must. Otherwise, why act like this?
Shoving my finger into the wound, she yelps, kicking out. I bat her attempts away. There, maybe now with fresh pain, she’ll see she isn’t so impenetrable. It seems to work back at the house.
“What the fuck?”
“Just reminding you of your mortality.”This fucking girl.Glancing back at my mark, I weigh my options.
I could leave her. Let her figure out how to get home. It’s her fault she followed me and got herself shot, the brat. If she wasn’t injured, I’d wring her pretty little neck.
If I leave her, I could take my mark’s head back to Ferguson. Then, a hot shower and a few glasses of booze. Maybe find someone to warm my bed for a much-needed release.
She groans, grabbing the wall as if to stand. She can’t get a grip; her fingers are wet with blood.
But I’ve been here every time she falls and healed her wounds. Leaving her now seems counterproductive to all my hard work.
That’s the only reason I scoop her up into my arms. As she lashes out, her fist catches my jaw, and I drop her. Thankfully, it’s not that far of a fall, but she curses me out all the same.
Rubbing my mouth, I know I’ll have a nice bruise come morning. “I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your fucking help,” she spits, crawling to lean against the wall. She pants, chest expanding, the shirt pulling tight with each breath. I force myself to watch her face. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“Right.” Dodging her fists, I throw her over my shoulder, patience gone. She’s the only one to push them.
She screams, the pain probably excruciating. Too bad. She shouldn’t have hit me.
“Put me down, Linwood!”
