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When he staggered, I brought my knee up and slammed it into his lower stomach. I brought my right fist down again and again, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing through the hallway.
He slammed his fist into the wall beside me, caving the drywall in and making me jump back. He growled and pulled me down by my shirt. A sickening thud echoed through the empty hall as his forearm collided with my shoulder. I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out as Augustus shoved me against the wall.
He pressed into me, his angry eyes boring a hole into mine. I wiped the blood from my lip and spit it into his face. He pinned me against the drywall. “Right now, I’m going to find Christine,” he said, his tone deadly. “So I don’t have time to fucking end you for being a lying, scheming prick. But once she is safe in my bed, you’re done.”
He released me with a hard shove, sending me into the wall with surprising strength. I exhaled, my head hitting the wall with an audible thud. I had told myself to keep my emotions separate and hidden. If I was going to be the leader of the DuPont empire, I had to be cold.
But all I could feel was sick.
Christine.
If she was out there, then she was in danger.
“Let’s go,” I said, my voice broken and weak.
The two of them were already headed down the hall toward the exit by the time I pulled myself off the wall. Eva exited the room and gave me a dirty look as I passed, her eyes narrowed in disgust.
“You’re letting them get in the way of your job,” she said to me, her voice low and hard. “I understand staying close to the king, but this girl isn’t worth your time.”
I paused. “You stay here. Be safe, Eva. I know everyone in our world treats you like an adult, but you’re still a kid. Observe and report back.”
She rolled her eyes, her signature look. “Fine. I’ll do the job you’re incapable of doing,” she breezed. “Chase after that worthless king of yours.”
I didn’t respond, just walked out the door.
My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, and my face was hot from the pressure, which was starting to tear me apart. There was a small, muted sense of pride blooming within me. My Little Monster had escaped a tower I’d attempted to flee many times over.
But I would find her again.
And I’d spank her ass for leaving me.
Chapter Twelve
CHRISTINE
Blood soaked the stone floors, a crimson pool mixed with a gray ooze that bubbled and made sucking sounds as it cooled on the cold stone tiles. The air was thick with the stench of burning flesh and death, mixed with the acrid smoke and ash of discharged weapons. The wound gurgled wetly as I pulled the blade from the man’s throat, a faint whimper escaping his lips before he fell silent once more. I dropped the DuPont guard, and he landed on the ground with a thud, the life fleeing his brown eyes as he bled out.
The air was stale and stunk of sweat, shit, piss and blood. The knife I’d stolen from Hudson was duller than I would have liked. It was made of steel, with a handle of white bone. The blade itself was dark and oily black, and the blood on it was the color of dried fruits, like plums or figs.
I could hear boots pounding on the tile floor, so I quickly continued my escape. I’d tried my best not to take too many lives, something that I couldn’t think about too much as I ran.
I didn’t want to disappoint Atticus.
I didn’t want to feel trapped.
But I couldn’t stay here. I didn’t trust Theodore. Something was off about him, and the longer I stayed here, the more in danger I was.
I turned the corner and almost hit a man who had a Thompson SMG in his hands and a look of surprise on his face. I grabbed hold of his collar and flung him into the long row of paintings that lined the hallway. His finger was tightening on the trigger when the machine gun bucked in his hand, sending a long burst of bullets toward a window that had already been blown out from when I tossed one of my earlier attackers out of it.
“I don’t want to kill you, but I need to take that gun so I can get out of here,” I gritted. The man’s face was filled with fear, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. He was gaunt and his skin was a mixture of oil, sweat and grime. His hair was dark and curly, a slick of dirt that covered his scalp and fell into his eyes.
He shook his head. “Mr. DuPont will kill me,” he stuttered.
“Looks like you die either way,” I replied. “You can either give me the gun and give yourself a head start or die now. I’ve already proven how far I’m willing to go to escape.”
He paled. Obviously, I could take the gun from him if I wanted, but I was giving him a choice. I struggled with not wanting to hurt Atticus’s empire while also wanting to be free. “Okay,” he whispered before handing me the gun. His breath was hot and heavy like a furnace, but sour with bile.
“Good,” I replied. I watched the man crumple to the ground, fear making him collapse. My right hand held the machine gun, the warmth of its barrel a pulse on my palm. My left hand felt along the cart’s wall, mapping it through the vibrations and impact of my fingertips. “I’m going to run. I suggest you do, too,” I replied before stepping past him and jogging down the hallway.
