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Kai grips my hand in his, holding me close. “I am not trying to. I simply want to get out of your hair, so we don’t have to see each other again.”
Archer chuckles.
If anyone can get a world record in smirking, that would be Archer. He would’ve made a perfect serial killer—nothing ever gives away his emotions.
I resist every impulse to cry, shout, or beg him to let us go, because he won’t listen.
Kai stands tall, staring Archer down as he comes closer, his head tilted just slightly in that psychotic curiosity of his.
“Why don’t you just let us go?” Kai asks seemingly calmly. “Or lock us up. Make it easy.”
Archer’s lips stretch in a smile. “Where’s the fun in that? I’d rather make you do tricks. Like a circus animal.”
Anger shoots through my veins, making me take a step toward him. Kai feels it and pulls my hand, trying to keep me behind him.
“You are a psycho!” I say loudly. “And a coward!”
That same smirk again, but Archer won’t look at me, like I am nothing.
“It all started because of her, you know,” Archer says, taking slow steps in front of us like a freaking teacher scolding his students. “You think she was worth it, Droga?”
“Every bit of it,” Kai says.
Archer widens his eyes in mock surprise. “Every bit,” he echoes. “Impressive. That’s why I brought her here, so she can lick your wounds. Looked like she did a stellar job back on the Eastside.”
Asshole.
I yank my hand out of Kai’s, take several steps toward Archer, and spit in his face.
Thick spit hits his eyes, making him wince and that hatred slash across his gaze.
I hear Kai shift behind me. Archer wipes his face with his hand, and a smile starts spreading on his lips.
A freaking smile!
I want to cut it out.
“Look at you,” he hisses. “I should make Droga lick it off me. He likes everything that comes from you.”
And the mockery in his eyes makes the hate in me boil.
My hands ball into fists.
I never fight. I am a peacemaker. I’ve never raised my hand in the slightest slap.
But this man brings out the worst in me—rage that could make me a murderer.
It’s more of an impulse when I lunge at him and swing my hand with curled fingers across his cheek, scratching the skin off.
His head snaps sideways. Then he slowly turns toward me, his fingers wiping the blood. He looks down, then up at me again, and a smile curls his lips—an evil mocking smile.
I wish I had a knife—that’s how angry he makes me.
I swing my fist at him again, but this time, he catches my hand midair.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” I hear from behind me, and in a second, a low thud comes out of nowhere—a punch that sends Archer stumbling.
Within seconds, Archer headbutts Kai, and the two tumble onto the ground.
