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Chapter 8
Addie
Ihurled a thousand insults into the rain. Thunder continued to clap overhead, and lightning streaked across the sky like a giant spotlight being switched on. Just as quickly, the light was snatched away, and darkness returned.
“Shit!” I screamed. Tam’s hands still wrapped around my waist were the only thing that restrained me. My stomach clenched and tightened as I considered the body on the ground. I couldn’t look away - the grotesque sight captured and held my attention. How could Elena just leave her teammate behind? How could she have leftusbehind?
And Lilly and Samantha. My friends. How could they have left us?
At least, I had thought they were my friends.
“It’s fine, Addie. Everything will be fine,” Tam said, pressing his face into the back of my neck. During my struggles, the baseball cap must’ve fallen off, and my long hair cascaded over my shoulders. “As soon as the storm ends, we will go to the parking lot and check to see if any of the cars are working. It will be fine.”
“Fine?” I scoffed in disbelief. “Tam, there are so many things that can fucking kill us if we don’t have a working vehicle. Ragers. Weather. Acid rain.” My body began to tremble, a stark contrast to Tam’s sturdy one pressed against mine.
“Addie. Look at me. Look at me.” With a whimper, I reluctantly turned to face him. He captured my face with his large hands, his eyes begging me to remain calm. To trust him and his ability to get us out of this situation. Taking a calming breath, I nodded slowly.
Yes.
He was right.
All we had to do was wait for the storm to pass, and then we could check to see if any of the cars were working. Even if none of the cars worked, we could just wait for the guys to discover we were missing and come for us.
At the thought of my guys, panic once again threatened to consume me. Shit. I knew that they were traveling as well. What if they got stuck in the storm? What if something had happened to them? My throat closed, and tears welled in my eyes at the thought. If anything were to happen to any of them, even Tommy, I would lose it.
More than I had already lost it, that was.
“You’re not calm,” Tam pointed out, and I couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that escaped my dry lips.
No. I was most definitelynotcalm.
With a resigned sigh, I placed my head on his shoulder. He dropped to his knees, still holding me, and I followed.
And then we sat - our arms wrapped tightly around one another - as the storm continued on.
* * *
Asher
I saw my first dead body when I was seven.
And I killed my first person when I was eight. Granted, the killing could be considered self-defense, but that doesn’t make a difference. Once a person was dead, he stayed dead. No more breathing. No more talking. No more living.
Lights out.
You may think that by this point I would be immune to death, but I was not. It was entirely impossible to desensitize yourself to the pungent smell wafting from a decaying corpse. To shield your eyes from the gruesome body mere inches from your blood-soaked shoes.
To see the life bleed from their eyes in tandem to the blood dripping from their wounds.
I held the knife in a light grip - not palmed or tightly grasped. It was like holding a flower with barely applied pressure to the stem. Squeeze too tightly, and the flower would die. Squeeze too lightly, and the flower would slip through your fingers. The way one held a knife was a common misconception. It should balance on the tips of your fingers in order to slice through skin cleanly. A knife was a deadly, powerful weapon despite the apparent insignificance of its appearance.
Wiping my knife on my pants, I turned towards Fallon expectantly. His brows were furrowed as he stared at the dead body before us, thousands of emotions flickering in his normally apathetic eyes. I couldn’t help but notice that not one of those emotions was regret.
“He didn’t talk,” I said, slipping the knife back into my waistband. I didn’t need to explain - Fallon had been present for the entire interrogation.
Arms crossed over his burly chest, Fallon took a step closer to the man.
Hunter something. I couldn’t catch a last name. Unimpressive in appearance with dark red hair, the beginnings of a beard, and muddy brown eyes. Right then, however, his features were nearly unrecognizable. Bruises marred his face, and lines carved from my knife distorted his skin.
