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I had tripped over a lifeless leg, belonging to someone that was bleeding profusely.
No. Not someone.
Dominic.
While a menacing figure, cloaked in dark cloth, stood over Dominic with a knife, its serrated edge dripping with crimson.
I realized with horror that it was Dominic’s blood, which was also dripping from a gash in Dominic’s neck, his skin filleted gruesomely like a steak. The assailant standing over him wore a split-face mask, one side red, the other side black, with a strange gray mesh covering the eyes from view. Still, I felt those eyes boring into me.
The woman who’d just stumbled onto Dominic’s murder.
The comforting warmth of the sun retreated, and every sound faded into a deafening silence as an ominous chill crawled up my spine, weaving icy tendrils around my ribs.
As I stared at a wolf who’d cornered a lamb that had wandered into his den.
CHAPTER2
Luna
Every movement, every sound, seemed to halt, as if the world held its breath with me.
The sun’s heat was merciless as it beat down on the iron-scented blood, which mixed with the faint smell of engine oil leaking onto the ground from a rusted pickup truck I’d fallen next to. A rainbow of colors shimmered off the rows of vehicles, which were flanked by the courthouse on one side, and a grass embankment overgrown with dandelions on the other. Somewhere in the distance, a plane droned on, its sound battling against the loud thud of my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
Among all of it, my gaze was drawn back to the blood dripping from the cruel metal blade.
Poor Dominic had been spared spending the rest of his life in prison, only to be killed. Why?
The assailant, who appeared to be male, remained motionless, his masked gaze pinning me in place.
The air seemed to contract, suffocating, choking the very oxygen from my lungs.
Run,the voice inside my head whispered urgently.
As I scrambled to my feet, a faint, agonized moan from Dominic anchored me to the spot.
Oh my God. He’s still alive.
If I fled, it would sentenceDominic to death—be it from bleeding out or suffering another vicious strike from his cold-blooded killer. But if I stayed…
The masked man seemed to assess me.
Was he debating which victim to strike next?
I scanned the ground around me, desperate for a weapon, spotting a shard of glass the size of a dinner knife glistening in the sun. I grabbed it and ignored the biting pain as it cut into my flesh.
“Back away.” I held the makeshift knife out in front of me with a shaking hand.
His weapon outmatched mine, but he had a jugular just like the rest of us.
“You come any closer, hand to God, I’ll stab you,” I warned.
His lips—the only part of his body exposed—curled up slightly.
That’s when the haunting recognition hit me.
The long-sleeved black shirt, black pants, black combat boots. Black gloves, dual-colored mask that covered his head, neck, and face, and the unusual mesh concealing his eyes. It was the same attire people had described after witnessing violent attacks. Not many people had seen him—he was usually stealthy when he’d commit his crimes, but every once in a while, he was spotted.
“You’re the Windy City Vigilante.” My voice trembled.
