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Fucker.
I change his eye color from blue to red with a flick of my balisong.
One by one, I take them out, barely feeling the round that dents in my stomach. Hunter snaps a neck. I shoot one in the mouth. Hunter lands a chest shot.
Then there’s one Redfang left standing.
I hit him in each hand.
Stigmata, motherfucker.
His scream sounds muffled.
He drops his gun, and the blood streaming through his mangled fingers looks like dull grey sludge.
I stand still.
I can feel my chest rising and falling. Rising and falling.
It’s the only sign I’m alive.
Did I take a bullet?
Maybe I’m already dead. Maybe I died a long time ago, and that’s why I can’t feel.
“You with me, buddy?” Hunter covers my shoulders with warm palms, peering into my face.
His eyes should be brown, but they’re a dark, colorless grey.
Lilah.
Lilah has grey eyes.
I think they’d sparkle even in the darkness.
I need to see her.
I need to see if her light can reach this far.
“Got one to bring in,” Hunter says into the com. “Taking Finn home. We can debrief after he levels out.”
When a Wyvern House team shows to clean the scene, Hunter drags me to our van. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. Even when he cranks the radio to death metal, I can’t hear the beat.
I see darkness and blood.
A metal chair, my wrists bound, the blindfold blocking everything but the scent of my own blood and piss. The sound of their laughter.
They never stopped laughing.
Until I slit their throats.
Darkness pulses through my veins as we pull up to the house.
I should want to ride my bike with the lights off, smash a bottle over a bar and start a brawl, or drink to fucking oblivion, but instead I’m craving a hit of starlight.
I can feel where she is.
Something calls me downstairs, heavy as gravity. I follow the call, picking the doors that stand between me and Lilah.
