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He struggled against me, but those were legs that’d kicked in the heads of instructors, martial arts champions—even Caelan Cameron, Lord of Men.
“I will break you bit by bit. You know who I am.Tell me,” I demanded.
My victim grunted, refusing to say anything. He wheezed and I let loose only slightly, giving him a chance to speak.
“One name and you’ll get a quick death.”
“Go to hell—”
“My pleasure.”
I squeezed hard and waited, gasping as he tried to thrash, but he didn’t manage it. Every ounce of me had to hold him to keep him steady as he fought and fought.
When he finally gave up, I sagged with relief and threw him off me.
Standing up, I spat on his corpse and shook my head.
Eric mumbled and I moved to him, removing the tape from his mouth and the cable ties from around his wrists.
One could argue cable ties wouldn’t curtail such a man, I thought, but brushed it aside.
Eric got up gingerly and surveyed the carnage. After he’d seen the hallway, he went and threw up in the bathroom.
I looked down at myself and shook with the aftermath of adrenalin and fear. It wasn’t so much the blood on me, but the energy leaving my body. Quickly, I walked to the bedroom. Logan was safe, still asleep. It was but 5.30 in the morning.
We had to act quickly if we were to survive, so I ran downstairs and checked the doors. They’d used some sort of high-tech cutting tool to get in through the front door. We were no longer safe here. The security system at the Lodge wasn’t exactly basic, but they’d somehow disabled that too, because I always set the alarm every night to let us know if someone had broken in.
I looked out of all the windows around the house. There was only that one car and no others in sight. An ambush, yes! Why would they expect to not achieve their goal of taking me?
Idiots! They weren’t as professional as the others. Maybe the bounty was bringing all sorts out of the woodwork, from the professional to the amateur.
Eric came downstairs in his t-shirt and long underwear. Both grey. His face wan, he looked like he’d been drained of all life.
He dove straight for the rucksack he’d been keeping his laptop in. In one of the inner pockets, there was his gun with the silencer on. He checked for bullets and nodded.
“You truly are his wife,” he said, trembling.
He was afraid. Petrified even, though our opponents lay dead.
I’d gone calm suddenly, blank, like ice.
Frigid, deep, ice.
“You didn’t believe it?” I said, stock-still, not meeting his eye.
A part of me was waiting for more. A corner of me had yet to relax.
“You enjoyed it,” he said.
“I did.”
“What was that?” he asked.
“What was what?”
“Inside you?”
I took a deep breath. “It was a mother protecting her cub. A mother with blood already on her hands. What could a few more ounces of the stuff do?”
