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They should’ve found me by now.
What if me and the other snipers didn’t take out enough of the Kings to even the odds. What if…
I couldn’t bring myself to think it.
They’ll come.
“Fuck!” Carson bellowed at the end of the hall, and I covered my mouth with a palm to stifle the sound of my sharp intake of breath when an entire computer tower and monitor crashed across the opening to the room, cords snagging, keyboard keys clicking over the concrete.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Now or fucking never.
I ran on my toes, hopeful that the sounds of him trashing the room would conceal my advance.
I pressed my back flat against the wall outside the door, lifting a blade as something else crashed against the door and spilled into the corridor. A basket full of fucking burner phones. My skin itched with savage desire and it took everything in me not to rush in kniveshot.
Maybe I should.
I clenched my teeth, sinking down to a crouch, remembering in vivid imagery the feeling of being powerless. Trapped in a cocoon of my own flesh as the drug he dosed me with took away all my fight. I couldn’t go through that again.
Angling the blade in my right hand, I pushed it closer to the door, trying to see his reflection in its freshly polished silver surface. I couldn’t see him. What I did see was a cot pushed against a cement wall. And another wall covered entirely in maps and images and notes and newspaper articles and a lot more I couldn’t decipher from the reflection alone. All of it centered onus. Me. The Crows. Diesel and the Saints. Rebecca. All interconnected with lengths of red string.
It was a serial killer wall. Fitting, since that was exactly what this filth was.
I twisted my blade just slightly and found a pair of blue eyes staring back at me. Carson cocked his head and I jerked my blade back, rounding the corner.
He dove and I threw, catching him in the thigh.
I threw my other blade, but he jerked a chair in front of himself and it embedded in the worn seat.
I bent to draw another from my ankle, unwilling to get closer to him, when he fired.
The shot grazed my forehead and knocked me back onto my tailbone. Blood gushed down into my eye, blinding me, but I couldn’t feel it. I kicked off the wall, curling up behind a desk, narrowly avoiding his next shot.
“You bitch!”
I squeezed my blood-coated eye closed and spied his back around the edge of the desk. I hurtled my other blade from lying on my side, and itthunkedinto the meat of his side, burrowing deep.
He cried out, and three more shots fired in the room, finding homes in the concrete as he jumped to his feet and wildly fired after me as I sprinted back out into the corridor. My eye burned, and I hissed, gasping as I slipped on a phone, landing face first on the floor.
A heavy weight pressed into my back, and I screamed as his fist twisted into my hair, rearing my head back to smash my face back down into the concrete floor, dazing me.
I coughed, choking on the coppery tang of blood in my mouth, fighting through the pain and the black spots in my vision. Wondering if I could reach his gun where he’d dropped it a few feet away.
He reared my head back again, and I used the angle to my advantage, grabbing my last blade from its holster instead and sheering it through my hair like butter.
My head came free, and I used all my upper body strength, pushing up from the ground to knock him off me, coming at him with a feral cry, blade raised, short tendrils of dark hair stroking my cheeks.
Carson fell onto his back, catching my wrist before I could sink the blade into his chest. The tip of the blade pressed through his lips parted in fear, but it was met with a tough resistance I noticed the ridges of the vest beneath his clothes.Damn.This wasn’t going to be easy. I bared my teeth, shouting my wrath into his face as I pressed down downdownwith everything I had.
“You’re no Angel,” he spat in my face, the veins in his neck bulging like slithering eels.
“No,” I agreed. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”
With another feral cry, I locked the muscle in my back and shoved down, sinking the blade past the vest, seeing the moment it broke contact with skin from the widening of his eyes. He choked, his eyes rolling back, hands leaving my wrist to claw at his chest, gasping.
My darkness preened within and together, we shoved off him, reaching for the Wilson Combat strapped to my thigh to knock him the fuck out and drag him back to Rook’s murder shed. But the fucker was faking the punctured lung and he wasfast. Faster than me.
