Captive Souls Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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“A disappointment, even in death,” I grumbled as more pops sounded.

I tried my best to brush the blood off me, which only served to smear it more.

My time was limited, that much I knew. Knox had obviously not gone quietly like I’d wanted, which had surprised me. It didn’t surprise me that he was coming back for me, even after I’d hurt him so badly. But it did surprise me that he was signaling it. It was taking a risk with my life. He had no way of knowing I’d killed Stone, and he would’ve considered what Stone might’ve done upon hearing sounds of conflict outside.

That was, kill me.

Even though I’d gravely wounded Knox, I knew he wouldn’t take such a risk with my life.

Something must’ve gone wrong.

Or one of Stone’s other enemies had picked a really inconvenient time to attack.

It didn’t matter which it was. All that mattered was that I needed more than a knife if I planned on making it out of there alive. Which I did. How horribly ironic would it have been if I made it through all that just to be killed by some nameless henchman in the end?

It would make for a good tragic love story, at least. Hadn’t I thought, in my heart of hearts, that Knox and I weren’t going to have a happily ever after?

“Enough of that shit, Piper,” I hissed at myself.

I clutched the knife I was holding as I searched the room for a weapon. The space was expensively appointed–no handguns hanging on the walls as I’d expected for a supervillain.

Inconvenient.

The sounds came closer, then the door burst open.

I froze where I was standing, with the bloodied knife in my hand and Stone’s corpse at my feet.

I didn’t recognize the man in front of me, but he had a gun, and he raised it toward my head the second he understood I’d shot his boss.

Though I wasn’t one to give up easily, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited. I couldn’t outrun a bullet, after all.

Knox, I love you, I silently called into the ether.

I flinched at the sound of a low pop. But it wasn’t followed by pain or any kind of impact.

I didn’t feel anything at all.

Maybe it was a headshot. Maybe I was already dead, that it happened that quickly. But no, the afterlife wouldn’t smell of coppery blood, excrement and expensive cologne.

My eyes eased open, and the man who had previously been holding a gun to my head was sprawled on the ground, red pooling underneath his head.

And the man standing there, who had obviously shot him, to my complete and utter surprise, was Lukyan.

Not a hair was out of place as his eyes flickered to Stone’s corpse, and he nodded once. I supposed he was impressed, though he didn’t say it.

“You ready to go?” he asked me blandly when I didn’t say anything.

The request was ordinary, as if he hadn’t just fought his way through however many people in an effort to … what? Save me?

I looked around. “Um, yeah.” I stepped on unsteady feet around the corpses to approach him.

“I thought you said it wasn’t your job to come in and save the day?” I asked him, breathing heavily.

Lukyan didn’t smile so much as grimace. “My wife convinced me to try on the hero’s cape. I don’t think I’ll be putting it on again.”

I swallowed a hysterical giggle. “You should. It suits you.”

He gave me a look that could melt paint and that might’ve flayed the skin off my bones if I hadn’t gone through everything I’d just gone through.

“I won’t. Consider yourself the luckiest woman in the world. And if you see me after this, run because it means someone paid me to kill you.”

I blinked at the line delivered so flawlessly that it sent cold terror clutching my throat like a vice. But I’d just killed someone. I was in love with an arguably scarier killer. I wasn’t so easily afraid those days.

"Dude, someone needs to write a movie about you or something,” I wiped some blood from my cheek. “You’re like John Wick, but you killed your own puppy.”

Lukyan looked at me like I had grown another head, not my question with an answer as he turned down the hall, not looking back to see if I followed.

Which I did.

I was not blindly deluding myself into the whole femme fatale thing. It was mostly dumb luck that had me accomplishing my goal, that and a whole lot of feminine rage. But that would only get me so far. And I wasn’t so much of a feminist that I wouldn’t hand the reins over to a very capable, ruthless hitman willing to do the rest of the work.

So through the horrifying maze of bodies in his wake, I followed him.

We made it out of Stone’s place alive.


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