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of a flying knife that was centimeters from impaling her in the head.
A breath of hot air fans across the back of my neck a mere second before I turn around, sliding my gun from the back of my jeans and taking aim at the culprit who threw the knife. I fire off a shot, hitting the person in the throat and scarcely dodging another knife to the face, catching his wrist right before it could connect. My scars get Addie hot and bothered, so I wouldn’t have minded if he succeeded.
The silencer attachment produces the smallest of sounds, quieter than the man now convulsing on the floor, choking on his own blood. Whipping back around, I find Addie scuffling with the first person. Just as I step in to help, she uppercuts the guy, her blade plunging up through his mouth and into his brain.
After she rips the knife from his head, he flops to the ground, dead before he hits the ruined carpet.
Fuck, that’s my good girl.
Sibby peers around, and from what I can see, she’s pouting. Her lips are pursed, disappointed she didn’t get to partake in the action.
“There will be more,” I assure quietly, my heart pounding from the adrenaline in my system. It’s like morphine pumping through my veins, giving me a high that drugs could never emulate.
Addie faces me with rounded eyes and her hand dripping with blood. Her chest heaves, and from here, I can smell her excitement.
An animalistic urge is beginning to take over. I want to take her to the ground and fuck her in the pool of blood. But her mother is somewhere in this house, most likely hurt and being held hostage.
Stepping back, I dip my chin in approval, feeling just how feral my stare is. She works to swallow, turning and scanning the room to distract herself from the energy thickening between us.
Pulling myself away from my murderous little mouse, I walk ahead and check every corner of the room, finding a small staircase in the back corner. I peer up the steps, seeing nothing but endless black.
“That’s my room,” she whispers from behind me. Turning my head, I peek at her over my shoulder.
“I think I’ll stay out of it for now,” I answer, my voice hoarse. “Go check to make sure no one is up there. Quickly.”
“We need to find—”
“Addie,” I growl. “If we don’t clear the house, they could be lying in wait until you’re distracted and kill you. So please just check the fucking room, baby.”
Snapping her mouth shut, she does as I say, keeping a wide berth as she walks past me. It takes her only a minute before she’s making her way back down the stairs.
“Clear,” she breathes. “Let’s check their room now, please. It’s on the other side of the kitchen.”
“After you,” I drawl. She rushes past me, leading us back through the bloody living room, then towards the stairs on the backside of the kitchen, right before the dining room.
Light on her feet, she quickly climbs the steps, Sibby and I close behind. They’re all aware of our presence but stomping around like elephants will only help conceal where they’re hiding.
The upper floor is a large circle surrounding the stairs, the monstrous chandelier hanging directly above. The diamonds hanging from the gaudy fixture glint in the moonlight spearing through the massive window.
The air is thicker up here, weighing heavily on my shoulders like God himself is trying to hold me down.
Someone is up here, but they’re not visible. Not yet, at least. An ominous feeling races through my bones, enough for me to step forward and push Addie behind me. I’ll slap duct tape over her mouth if she tries to argue. I don’t care how capable she is, I’ll always protect her.
But she doesn’t argue, indicating she feels it, too. My chest tightens as I look around, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It only takes a few more seconds. A bright red laser spears through the window, landing directly on my chest.
“Zade, get down!” Jay shouts through my earpiece.
“Shit,” I curse before I dive directly into Addie and Sibby, tackling them both to the ground and nearly sending us right back down the stairs. The window shatters, and I feel the heat of the bullet slide past my arm, taking a chunk out of my bicep with it.
Sharp glass rains down on us, little slices stinging my cheeks and hands. Addie and Sibby cover their heads, attempting to protect themselves from the barrage of tiny knives.
“Fuck, is everyone okay?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“All’s good,” Addie groans, followed by Sibby’s irate confirmation.
“The motherfucker was shielding his body with something, wasn’t picking up on the infrared sensors in the drone until he repositioned,” Jay explains hurriedly, then muttering under his breath, “Probably used fucking Styrofoam.”
