Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Cutting through the stores, he turns down a back alley, and I shake my head, having done more than enough research on this town to know that alley offers nothing but a dead end. This guy really is a fucking moron, but if he really wants to send himself to an early grave, then who the hell am I to deny him?
Stepping out of the shadows, I cut across the street and slip into the back alley behind him. I follow him a few steps and watch as his back begins to stiffen. His senses tell him that something isn’t right, and I bet right about now, there’s a chill sailing down his spine.
“You just made the biggest mistake of your life,” I say, my voice sailing right down the alley.
The Texan Reaper pauses before whipping around with wide eyes.
“You don’t seem so brave now,” I taunt.
He clenches his jaw, and I see the exact moment he realizes that his only way out of this alley alive is to fight his way out of it. “I ain’t losing.”
I scoff. “You lost the second you tied your name to mine.”
His eyes widen again, and I have to hold back a laugh.
“Oh, you didn’t think I knew what you were up to?”
Embarrassment flashes in his eyes as he reaches for a blade. He wants to be the one at the top of the food chain, but unfortunately for him, he lacks the skill and creativity it takes, which is why he’s taken it upon himself to tie himself to me. Instead of working harder, he developed the warped fake it ’til ya make it mentality. But like I said, I work alone, and I sure as fuck don’t have time for assholes like this.
I open myself up, allowing him the chance to make the first move, and he doesn’t let me down. Similar to the way Raven went after Siren today, he recklessly charges forward without a game plan.
His fist hurtles toward my face, and I evade it with ease before sending a punch of my own straight into his ribs. The sweet sound of his bones snapping under the force only spurs me on. He grunts, but a little broken rib isn’t enough to take him out of the game. He pushes back, attempting to trade blows, but the only one actually landing any is me.
He gets his ass handed to him, blood spurting from his split lip and brow, and when I land a solid kick to his chest and he slams against the brick wall of the alley, he crumbles. His eye is already swollen shut, and while I haven’t quite broken his leg, I’ve done more than enough damage to ensure he won’t be walking home tonight—not that he’ll be walking anywhere when I’m through with him.
The Texan Reaper spits a mouthful of blood at my bare feet, and my lips twist in disgust. This one was personal. I could have just ended his life, gotten it over and done with, but after years of this asshole riding my coattails, a little revenge felt necessary. Besides, all that pent-up frustration from my blue balls had to go somewhere, right?
Pulling my blade out of my pocket, I step toward The Texan Reaper, more than ready to get this over and done with. “What do you say?” I taunt, twisting the blade between my fingers. “Make it quick with a shot straight through the eye into the brain, or perhaps I should just gut you like a fish?”
“Go to hell,” he spits.
“I’m already well on my way,” I tell him. “I suppose I’ll see you there.”
Then just as I go to make my kill, a feminine gasp sounds from the opening of the alley, followed by a guy’s voice. “Hey. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Fuck.
My head snaps up, taking in the group of teenagers standing at the top of the alley. There are at least seven of them. Three girls and four boys, each of them looking barely eighteen, probably out looking for trouble on this beautiful Saturday night.
My hand tightens on the blade as I consider my options. I could finish the kill and get this asshole out of my way while scarring these kids for the rest of their lives, or I can slink away and come back to finish him off another time. I’ve never walked away from a kill, but now that the kids are starting to pull out their phones to record, I doubt I have any fucking choice.
“Shit,” I mutter before smirking at The Texan Reaper. “Consider yourself lucky. I’ll be back for you, and when I do, I’ll make it fucking count,” and with that, I disappear, kicking in the back door of one of the stores in the alley and cutting through the building, doing everything in my power to evade having my face uploaded on social media. I’ve gone to such extreme lengths to keep myself invisible, and The Texan Reaper won’t be the reason for my downfall, not tonight, not fucking ever.