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I’m more tactical.
I kick at his shin and force a strained howl out of him. Distracted by the sudden and unexpected pain, he’s not ready for my next strike. I let go of the board and uppercut him. My knuckles collide with the brunt of his jaw. He flails backward, thrown off balance. I finish him.
More hits to the face and body until he’s knocking into the wall and then dropping to the floor. I climb on top of him, my Balisong knife flipping out for some play time.
“You thought you could escape? You thought I wasn’t going to hunt you down?” I pant, jamming the knife into his broad chest. Nowhere that will kill him. The moment is more about torture. I have enough experience with both to know when and where to hurt someone and to what degree.
Azeria’s going to live... for the next few hours. Once I’ve had my fun—and interrogated him to the fullest extent—he’ll be disposed of like the rest.
When he doesn’t answer quick enough for my liking, I slash his shoulder next. Sweat pours out of him profusely as his teeth gnash and he tips his head back to keep from crying out.
“You know what the fuck you did,” I say. “You signed your death warrant and didn’t even know it.”
To my surprise, just when I’m expecting a whimper of pain, he bursts into crazed laughter. He throws his head back and barks out some shaky laughs.
I growl in answer and stab him in the chest again. “Keep laughing. I can fuck you up all day.”
He finally cries out when I stab him a fourth time, though the amused glint still shines in his eyes. This guy is batshit crazy. That, or he’s delirious. Either way, this is only a teaser of what’s to come. My bloodlust is nowhere near quenched.
“We’ll see if you’re laughing when I’m through with you,” I say, gripping bloody fingers into the front of his coat. I raise his torso up so his face is forced to come close. “You’ve got no idea what you’re in for. Bet you didn’t know fucking with her is fucking with me, did you?”
23. delphine
“Who goesfor a run in the cold?” Stitches asks, blowing heat into his hands. “No offense, Miss ADA, but you’re off your rocker.”
I crack my neck and roll my head on my shoulders. “The cold air feels good when you’re running.”
Stitches blinks at me from behind his wire-framed glasses. “Yep. It’s official. Psycho’s girl is as psycho as he is.”
“Stop it,” I laugh. “You should try it. Come for a run with me sometime.”
“I’ll tail you in my car, heat on full blast. How’s that?”
I leave him on the sidewalk as I finish out my stretches. Tomorrow is Christmas, and I don’t plan on exercising much untilafterthe New Year. I’ve made Salvatore promise he’ll take a few days off with me. Memories of our last winter holiday come to mind—the last real moments we’d been together before breaking up.
As ridiculous as it sounds, it’d be nice to experience another holiday like that, where we were cozy and bundled up inside his apartment, enjoying the break from the outside world.
I plug my ears with my AirPods and then I’m off. I set a steady pace, occasionally checking my smart watch. I’m on track to run a twelve-minute mile. Not the best, but I’ve been mostly out of practice for weeks now.
The park resembles a winter wonderland with the snowfall from last night. It’s turned everything around me white, from the tree tops to the grass. Thankfully, the running trail has been kept free of snow.
The winter sunlight shines pale and anemic, but invigorating just the same.
Few are out at the park given it’s Christmas Eve. I encounter the occasional fellow runner and speed walker. A few others walk their dogs or head off to a coffee and bagel shop. A stopImight make too, once I’m through.
Up ahead the running trail curves along the perimeter of the park. I check behind me and see Stitches tailing me in his car. He’s got the window down despite the bitter cold, as if it helps him keep a better watch over me. When our eyes meet, he winks.
I stay on the route I’m on, tracking my pace every so often. It’s as I’m glancing up from my smart watch that I see a man jogging toward me out the corner of my eye.
My heart flips with enough panic I almost react by striking him. I’ve practiced the maneuvers Salvatore has taught me so many times, I’m more than prepared to defend myself. I slow up, ready to launch into my first move until I recognize the familiar face.
Chadwick looks out of place on a runner’s trail—his large form lumbers toward me puffing out cold air, his expression miserable. He’s wearing a beanie pulled down to his brows, his attire so new I half expect to see an uncut price tag. Matching jacket and jogger pants, his shoes unscuffed and without a speck of dirt on them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took a detour to a luxury shop and purchased the ensemblejustfor this moment.
Though he’s in incredible shape, it’s clear he’s not much for running. Especially not outdoors. He’s more the private indoor gym type.
“Delphi!” he pants as he falls into step with me.
“Hey! Get away from her!” Stitches shouts, honking his horn. He moves to park, presumably so he can get out andmakeChadwick leave me alone.
