AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, that’s not okay. Why can’t you just leave it be?”
“I’m doing good things here. Why can’t you see that?”
“You so conveniently forget the man in the bakery.”
“Oh,please,that wasonetime.” Arching an eyebrow at her, I waited. It can’t have been the only time there were close calls with innocent bystanders.
“Okay, fine,” Ray added. “Maybe like three or four times, but no one has ever died!”
“He almost did.”
“He didn’t, though.”
“Ray—”
“Ilsa,fuck!Make up your mind, will you? Either you want to stop me, or you don’t. Either you want to talk to me, or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways because you and I both know I’m not going to stop simply because you keep showing up and asking me nicely.” Ray grabbed my shoulders and shook me. I should’ve stopped her, but she was right, and I hated it. “What do you want?”
Purpose.
I was jealous of her, of her purpose, of her mission, of her ability to undertake it without fear.
“Let me go.”
She did, and I took a step back. The rage burned within me, starting in my gut and working its way up my chest until my breaths were heaving. I could see the anger in her eyes reflecting mine. I was disrupting her, ruining her game because I wasn’t playing my role in it. But I had no role because I had no end game here. I kept showing up to stop her hoping the answer would present itself to me, but things never got any clearer. Either I’d have to kill this woman, this demon, or leave her be.
“Just fucking stop this shit, Ray!” I yelled. She raised her brows but simply crossed her arms over her chest, dropping a hip and looking at me impatiently. Storming out, I slammed the bathroom door behind me.
But I wasn’t angry at her.
I was angry at myself.
ILSA
“Oh, you havegotto be fucking kidding me.”
Standing at my front door, her arm was outstretched as she leaned heavily on the door frame, that cocky-ass grin plastered on her face. I was about to tell her where to shove it, but then I gave her a better look over, forcing myself to shift past my initial reaction of having her at my doorstep—anger and confusion—and giving way to something I tried not to do too often to those who may not deserve it—compassion. The kind of compassion that goes beyond duty and makes my chest ache.
But seeing her now…fuck.
How I was going to explain to the landlord about the trail of blood leading from the elevator to my front door? I had no idea. The trail ended at her feet as she stood trembling, her grin having dropped a moment after I had opened the door. Blood was dripping from wounds on her exposed midriff, her taut stomach smudged with handprints as she had tried to stem the flow.
With as much of her weight as possible leaning on her arm, which shook with the effort of holding herself up, she simply nodded slightly and looked at the floor as though she already knew what I was thinking. Even though her clothes were black, as they mostly were, the thick, sticky patches of blood were still visible across her chest and legs. The rattling of her unsteady breathing was unnerving.
“Jesus, Ray, what the fuck happened?” I whispered.
In what I imagined was a huge effort, judging by the grimace painfully stuck on her face, Ray raised her head. When she made eye contact, I sucked in a breath, as I always did, despite our differences—a mild way of putting it—I wasn’t blind to how beautiful she was.
And those golden eyes, well, they were hard to ignore.
Eyes that usually blazed with passion and fury were now filled with pain, and if I didn’t know Ray better, I’d have sworn she was about to cry. Her deep crimson hair lay limp around her face, streaked with blood. Seeing her like this struck pain in my chest which was hard to ignore. I had tried to hurt her before, then helped her for reasons I still don’t understand. But now, watching one of the strongest beings I had ever encountered, weakened and trembling, noting the lack of the cheeky flare from her eyes, well, it tore at even my own heartstrings.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
I caught her as she passed out.
Why is it that although I had been trying to stop her myself, learning her habits and working my way into her life so she couldn’t take a step without me knowing about it, that I suddenly cared she was hurt?
Because it wasn’t done by me?
