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Loera lets out a deep-throated chuckle, then reaches down to adjust himself in his pants. When he takes his hand away from his groin I realize he’s completely hard. Instinctively, I take a step backwards. The movement seems to break his trance. He takes a step toward me, and starts to mutter some filthy words, half in Spanish and half in English, lips glistening with saliva.
Oh my god. This is it.
I move backwards toward the bed, pretending to stumble so that I can reach behind myself. Lunging, Loera grabs me roughly by the throat, falling forward on top of me on the bed just as I pull the makeshift knife from behind my back.
With all my strength, I bring the shard forward and plant it in the left side of his neck, aiming for the exterior jugular vein.
Loera makes a sound halfway between a wheeze and a scream. His eyes bulge in confusion and pain. The hand that’s not around my neck clutches his throat. Still holding my makeshift handle, I force the shard deeper, and try to pull it toward the center of his neck toward the trachea, but I’m not strong enough to cut into the cartilage. Loera’s grip on my neck weakens. I let go of the shard and use all the strength I’ve got to push him away from me. He’s trying to scream again, but blood turns the noise into a gurgle instead. He grabs at me but I’m out from under him now, and when he tries to flip himself over on his side to come after me I kick him in the balls with everything I’ve got.
The wet bellow he emits as he doubles over is inhuman, unlike anything I’ve ever heard.
I don’t have time to think or do anything else. I run out of the room, not stopping for anything. Out on the landing, mercy of mercies, I can see the front door at the bottom of the staircase, and I fly down it, almost stumbling as I clutch at the railing to hold myself upright.
I race through the foyer, and just as I get to the door, there’s a shout of alarm behind me. Panicking, I wrench it open and run through, trying to pull it shut behind me as I pass through. A split second later, the top of the door explodes above my head. I scream and dive sideways, running full tilt in my almost-bare feet toward the shelter of a thicket of trees at the end of the property. Behind me, the door slams open. Angry shouts reach me. Cringing, I duck again and veer left, aiming to put the house between us for as long as I can.
Seconds later, there’s another shot. Crazily, my brain thinks it’s coming from the opposite direction. A scream of agony rips through the air behind me. I keep running, legs pumping. My feet get cut by weeds and branches, and the pain rips incoherent cries from my throat, but I don’t let myself slow down. More gunfire cracks behind me. I’m almost to the trees now. Almost —
“KAT!”
The voice is so familiar — so everything I want to hear — that at first I don’t let myself listen. It’s a fantasy, it’s too impossible for him to be here to save me. But then it comes again.
“KAT! Keep running! Stay hidden until I come for you!”
Connor!
Shaking so hard I stumble badly, I finally reach the trees and throw myself behind a thick trunk. I start to sob uncontrollably, though I’m so dehydrated no tears come. More gunfire erupts, echoing in the trees. I stay where I am, peering through the tall grass at the house, my terrified ears tuned to every noise like prey listening for its predator.
It takes five minutes, maybe ten, before there’s any more movement from the outside of the house. Finally, a group of men emerge from the same front door I ran out of. They’re dressed in black, all of them wearing black ski masks. One of them breaks off from the rest, running toward me. I stiffen, preparing to take off even further into the trees. But then, his voice — his beautiful, perfect voice — calls my name, and instead I’m breaking out into the open, running toward him and his open arms.
“You’re safe, baby,” Connor murmurs when I stumble into him. I’m laughing and crying at the same time. He pulls me into his embrace. I bury my face in his chest and try to stop shaking.
“You came for me,” I wheeze. “You came.”
“Sshhh, baby. Of course I came for you.”
“I was… so scared…”
“I know you were baby. It’s okay. It’s all over.” Connor pulls back and lifts my chin. His eyes are shining. “You did it, baby. He’s dead. You killed Hector Loera.”
27
FURY
We kill all the people at Hector Loera’s house. On the way out, I grab Kat’s clothes from the bedroom where I find Loera himself, dead in a pool of his own blood. We can’t have any evidence leading back to her for anyone to find later.
I get to Kat and get out her out of there before anyone else comes. Time will tell whether we managed to erase our tracks completely, but she is safe. That’s what’s most important.
Back at the clubhouse, our medic patches Kat up and gives her something to calm her down. Physically, she’s mostly just bruised, but her feet are pretty cut up from running. Mentally, though, that’s another story. Even when you’re fighting for your life, killing someone for the first time takes a toll on you that’s hard to describe. Kat holds up really well until just about the time Wishbone’s done patching her up, and then something snaps in her and she starts shaking like a leaf. “Shock,” Wishbone says to me. “The pills I gave her should take the edge off in a bit. For now, just keep her calm and get her hydrated.” He reaches over and gives Kat’s shoulder a squeeze. “You did good, kid. You’ve got a backbone on you. You’re one of us, that’s for sure.”
When he leaves the room, Kat sinks into me and tries to control her shivering and her chattering teeth. “I killed someone, Connor,” she whispers. “I’m a nurse. I heal people. I don’t hurt them.”
“You did what you had to do to survive. That’s different. You know it is.” My throat gets tight. “If you hadn’t killed Loera when you did — if we hadn’t gotten to you in time — you know what he would have done to you, right? And when he was done with you, he would have either sold you to someone worse than him, or killed you.”And if you had died, it would have killed me, too.“You are alive because you’restrong, Kat. Never forget that.”
She starts to weep, quietly. I just hold her, and wait. She quiets after a while, and her shaking eventually stops.
Then Kat finally asks me the question I’ve been dreading.
“What’s happened to Quad?”
