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Dammit, I thought, assuming the boss to be Eoin. If he was awake, then it was certainly sunset or later. I wasn’t sure how far away he was, so I couldn’t waste any more precious time.
I had to escape.
Now.
Not giving Phillip any time to react, I stepped out behind the door and fired off two rounds—one to his heart and one to his head. He dropped like a sack to the ground. I raced passed his body, disoriented for a moment, before choosing to just run right. The hallway was plain and empty. No doors to be seen except a single one at the end. I slammed into it, desperately turning the knob, but it was locked.
I let out a scream of frustration.
So close, so fucking close.
Desperation rose up within me, streaking down my face in angry tears.
“Fuck!” I shouted, pounding on the door. “Fuck!” Kicking the door with my bare foot only gave me sore toes, but I kept doing it before backing up and firing the gun, once, twice, at the doorknob. The bullets ricocheted, flinging back toward me, and I barely avoided the flying projectiles.
I was panting with exertion, with pent-up fear and stress, and didn’t know what to do next. Eoin was coming back down and my only exit was locked.
I needed to hide. He didn’t know I had a gun. Although bullets hadn’t proved useful against him in the past, it was all I had right now. I ran back to the room, eyes scouring for a place to hide, when I heard the hallway door slam open.
I scrambled behind the couch, curled up with my back pressed against the wall and the gun cradled in my hands. I couldn’t see the door from this position, but I could see the body of Walter, and I suddenly remembered—his knife.
I debated scrambling from my hiding space and lunging for it, but the precise footsteps echoing down the hallway were drawing near.
I was out of time.
Eoin
Chapter Nine
An exasperated sigh rose from my chest as I eyed the dead man in the hallway, stepping over him as I made my way toward Ottavia’s open door. For a woman who vehemently labeled me as a monster, she sure had done quite a bit of her own murdering in the last twenty-four hours. At this point, I was convinced Mattia La Rosa had raised her with the life quest of offing me and all of my men. She was doing a terrible job at it—well, themepart of the equation—but it was to be expected coming from a La Rosa. They did feck werewolves, after all, and one couldn’t possibly be all that intelligent if they fecked dogs.
Ottavia was hunched beside the couch when I entered the room, presumably hiding from me, butverypoorly. Even if I hadn’t seen her, I would have heard her. Breaths were sucked in and out of her lungs in barely quieted pants. The putrid stench of shite billowed around the room and my gaze dropped to a second man as he lay on the tile, a string cut into his neck.
She’s quite inventive, I’ll give her that.
A loud shrill squeak echoed around the room as my shoe moved on the damp, freshly mopped floor, my shoulder shifting from the doorframe where I had been propped watching Ottavia. She leaped up at the sound, firing off three shots from the handgun I hadn’t seen hidden in her little hands.
Feck me.
I should have seen that coming.
With an angry hiss and three bleeding holes in my chest, I launched forward, snatching the gun from her white-knuckled grip in one hand and yanking her to me by her hair with the other. She screamed at the contact, her heart thudding in her chest.
“Ye ’ave shot me more times in tha last week than I’ve been in tha las’ decade.” The words snap through bared fangs, her face scrunched when I shake her head a bit with the hand in her hair. “Ye know tha’ bullets can’t kill me.”
“I’ve always been a half-glass-full kind of woman,” she responded, her eyes momentarily squeezing shut when my fingers tightened in her hair. “I’m optimistic that one of these times it’ll work.”
“It would seem tha’ I need ta teach ye a lesson in ’ow ta properly use a firearm.”
A low cry slipped through her lips as I pulled her around and threw her onto the arm of the couch. There was a softtinkas the bullets started to work their way from my chest, falling from my skin to hit the tile below.Tink.Her breath whooshed from her chest in a lowoofand she scowled up at me over her shoulder, her gaze quickly flicking forward when my eyes met hers.Tink.I eyed her clothing, noting that she must have changed at some point, and speculating that the poor man at my back met his demise at the expense of these same plain prison-like sweats.
Even with her new clothing, the smell that came off of her was proof she hadn’t bothered to bathe.
Stubborn fecking woman.
She squirmed as I pressed up against her sweatpant-covered ass, hand gripping the matted mass of her hair to arch her neck up and back toward me. My nose ran from her ear to the top of her shoulder, inhaling deeply as she hissed through her teeth. Saliva pooled on the edge of my tongue, her scent making my cock jump in my trousers.
“Ye stink of my cum an’ old blood.” She jerked against me and I pushed out my pheromones, turning her angry huff into a groan. I added, goading her, “Buh at least it covers tha scent o’ wet dog.”
