Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I return my attention to my prey, his face unrecognizable now. He’s gurgling blood, choking on it. The sound is music to my ears. I drop him, and his head bounces off the pavement. He lies still, the gurgling stopping all at once.
I turn my attention to his friend. I’m not finished.
“No… please…” The big guy’s eyes bulge as he realizes I’m coming for him next, his feet slipping on the wet pavement when he tries to run. “No, don’t, I won’t tell anybody.”
He’s right. He won’t.
I take hold of him and throw him against the brick wall face-first. It stuns him, and he tries to swing at me. I easily duck it before taking him by the back of the head and smashing his face against the brick once, twice, until there’s nothing but a red smear on the wall that follows his progress as he slowly slides down its length, landing in a lifeless heap.
I want to roar in triumph as I look over what I’ve done. My blood’s pumping, adrenaline coursing, blocking out everything but the pure rush of domination.
Until my gaze lands on an unconscious Delilah, and reality rushes back in.
I pull out my phone, my bloody fingers streaking the screen when I tap Nic’s contact entry.
When he answers, I mutter four words. “I need cleanup services.”
The announcement catches him off guard, judging by the way he pauses. “Location.” There’s heaviness in his voice. I know where it’s coming from but can’t bring myself to give a shit.
“Takotna. In the alley behind a bar called Ralph’s.”
“What are you—”
“Immediately. Two messes in need of cleanup.”
“Two? Lucas, what the fuck are you doing? Why are you there? What—”
“Just get it done. I need to get out of here.”
With that, I end the call, tucking the phone away before covering Delilah with my jacket and lifting her oh-so gently in my arms. She’s still breathing evenly. Hopefully, there’s nothing but a bump on the head to worry about. If he cracked her skull or caused internal hemorrhaging…
Well, I suppose I can’t kill him again.
I’m a mess, but it’s dark, and there aren’t many people on the street. I passed a hotel on the way from the helipad and head in that direction, Delilah’s limp body resting in my arms, tucked tight against my chest.
A glance in a darkened shop window tells me I’m bruised, but not badly enough that I’ll raise too many red flags. I could always say we had a little accident and needed somewhere to stay the night. I look down at Delilah. Her eyes are closed, her face that of an angel that’s merely asleep.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper, though I know she can’t hear me. “We’ll get you taken care of.”
30
DELILAH
“Are you still with me? Delilah? Are you awake?”
I think I am, though I’m not sure I want to be. My head. It’s like somebody drove a concrete truck through my skull. I don’t want to open my eyes, knowing how much worse it will be once the light hits them.
“You’re all right, and everything will be fine.” I flinch at a cold sensation on the back of my head. It’s just ice, I realize once I hear it moving, the cubes jangling around.
It takes me a moment to put everything together—my thoughts are moving so slowly. “Lucas?” I whisper, trying to pry my eyes open.
“You gave me a little bit of a scare,” he murmurs, his voice warm and even gentle. I gave him a scare? When he’s the one who ran off? I don't know how long I spent looking for him.
Only that it was dark by the time I found him getting beaten by two men.
“What happened?” I lift my hand, prepared to test the area that hurts the worst, but he keeps me from doing it.
“Leave the ice where it is for now. Believe me, you’ll feel a lot better if you do.” He shakes a pill bottle close to my face. “Something for the pain.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. So now I’m with the kind Lucas. The gentle, protective one. All it took was getting knocked out.
“What were you doing? Were you trying to get yourself killed?” I take a couple of pills, then sip the water as slowly as I can. My stomach’s a little queasy, so I want to be careful.
He closes the curtains over the windows, but there’s still enough light to catch sight of the damage done to his face. It’s not too much, but enough that it’s clear he’s been fighting.
Is this what he does? Gets himself all worked up until there’s no way to keep living unless he vents everything built up inside? Like a volcano.
“I could ask you the same question. What the hell are you doing here? Why did you leave school? How did you even manage this?”