Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Blood spurts across my face, covering my hands, my clothes. It’s warm and bubbling and Hoxton’s eyes are wide as he coughs once, twice, blood gurgling in his throat as I thrust the blade upward, cutting through flesh and fat and guts, disemboweling the bastard, feeling his life drain from him, spill all around him, the stain of it permeating every sense until all I see is red. All I smell is blood. All I want is blood.
A familiar sound breaks into the moment.
I sit back, drag in a breath. Try to make out what the sound is. I know it.
It’s my phone ringing in my pocket. I don’t reach for it, and it stops. I look down at the man before me. Arms and legs splayed. Head to one side. Eyes open. Blood trailing from his mouth, his gut.
“Fuck! Zeke!”
I look back at the door just as it slams open, and Jericho crashes inside the splintering frame.
He takes in the scene. I follow his gaze. Get to my feet. I walk to the sink and switch on the water. Jericho closes the door. It won’t stay though. It’s busted, the frame ripped apart.
I wash my hands, Hoxton’s switchblade clattering loudly against the porcelain sink.
“What the fuck did you do?” Jericho asks.
“He recognized her. It was a matter of time,” I say, tone calm. It’s mostly true.
“Jesus Christ. Look at you.” He looks down at Hoxton. No need checking for a pulse. He’s dead. “Stay here. I’m going to get the car. There’s an exit at the end of the corridor. Where’s your phone?”
“Pocket.”
“When I call you again, you fucking pick up. Stay. We don’t need anyone seeing you like this.” He vanishes and I bend to wash my face, my heart rate normal again. I push water into my hair. It’s sticky with blood. I look down at Hoxton and feel much the same as when I killed my father and his mistress. Nothing. Not a damn thing.
When the door opens again, I turn to find my brother stepping inside holding a trench coat.
“Put this on,” he says, and I take it from him. “Let’s go. We have to leave him.”
I take the switchblade from the sink, close it and casually tuck it into my pocket.
“Did anyone see you?” Jericho asks as he checks the corridor before we step out and walk swiftly down the hall to the exit. We step outside, cool night air feeling good against my skin.
Sirens wail. I pause. Did someone already call the police?
No. That makes no sense. We’re The Society. We have our own police.
We climb into my brother’s car. “Where are Blue and Isabelle?”
“Dex is taking them home. Did anyone see you?” Jericho asks again.
“I don’t care if they did,” I say.
“For Christ’s sake.” He drives out calmly, exiting the compound.
Those sirens grow louder, lights flashing in the distance, traffic building.
“What the fuck was that? What are you, some sort of fucking vigilante now?” Jericho asks.
“I told you he recognized her. It was a matter of time before he put two and two together. We shouldn’t have brought Blue here. That was a mistake.”
“At least we know now. Hoxton would be working for the Councilors. One of them sent him to Lucky’s house to get those files. And I have a feeling it was them who intervened to get Lucky out on parole so early into his sentence. They want those files back. We need to find them.”
“I’ll get it.”
He looks at me, eyebrows furrowed. “How?”
“She has it. I know she does. I’ll get it tonight.” I draw my phone out of my pocket to call Blue as our car slows to join the building queue. There’s an accident up ahead.
The phone rings. Did she bring it with her to the event? Yes. She put it in her bag. I remember that.
“What the fuck?” Jericho says.
I look over at him, disconnecting when the phone just keeps ringing. He opens his door. I shift my gaze up, out of the front windshield.
“Isabelle?” I hear him ask.
I open my door, but this doesn’t make any sense. Isabelle is here?
“Isabelle!” Jericho runs toward the accident scene.
I look at the car that’s been hit. The airbag that’s been deployed. I’m out and running before I can make sense of what I’m seeing.
30
Blue
My head. Fuck. My head.
I squeeze my eyes as my ears ring, the pitch blocking out all other sounds. I hear a groan and I try to open my eyes.
Someone screams and a car alarm goes off. Drivers honk their horns, angry? Why? Why all this noise?
My door opens and I fall backwards out of the car. Someone catches me. I was wearing my seatbelt. I’d just put it on. Hadn’t I?
We got into the car, Isabelle and me. Dex closed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat, silent, as usual. I saw a lipstick on the floor I recognized. I bent to get it, realizing it was the car Zeke had used to kidnap me. Yes. That’s it. I unclipped my seatbelt to get the lipstick. We were at the light. It was just for a second.