Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
"Just kill me," His broken voice pleaded through bloody coughs, spitting crimson droplets.
Sunshine's honeyed voice echoed in my mind, urging me to end his suffering. I didn’t want to hear that. Who the fuck was he to elicit such compassion from her? With a vicious snarl, I yanked my Kukri out and plunged it into his throat again and again until the tip of my blade slammed into the brick wall behind him. I wiped it clean on his shirt, sheathed the weapon, and then stepped back to watch his lifeless body slump to the ground.
A pool of blood seeped from his mangled gut and throat like a beautifully grotesque final breath. I toed his head with my boot. Fucking pathetic. Seldom could the hunters handle being hunted. The encounter was brief, ending as quickly as it began. No more came for us from either direction.
It was evident that most had been giving us a wide berth, their reluctance to engage a mix of fear and perhaps, in some way, support. The two now dead lacked the same instinct for self-preservation.
“Are you okay?”
I turned to face her. In that moment, I saw red. My hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white with suppressed rage. She shouldn’t have asked me to stop. He deserved what he got, and then some.
“Ky, it’s cool. He’s dead now. Extra dead,” Maverick joked to cover up the dangerous energy radiating off of me.
He knew. She didn’t.
Her friends were beginning to understand. I felt their eyes on me—on us. They didn’t intervene as fast as they had before. As I thought, they weren’t just pretty faces. They’d caught on just as quickly all those years ago when I decided to make this beautiful girl mine by any means necessary.
“What’s wrong?” she inched closer and placed a hand on my arm.
Her touch was soothing. I made sure it remained above the blood coating my hands. She didn’t need this filth on her perfect, soft skin. “Just a bit let down,” I admitted with a shrug, quietly exhaling and counting back from six. "Don’t do that again.”
Her brow pinched in confusion, but there was no need to elaborate. I could show her better than explain. With the immediate threats neutralized, we continued down the alley. As we neared the end, the siren abruptly cut off. Ciaran stopped in his tracks, casting a long shadow in the moonlight as he turned back to address us.
"Game will be fully live within five minutes. If we want to continue on our makeshift path, there’s no time to waste. Keep moving and don't look back. Anyone suicidal enough to stand in our way will be dealt with."
He looked over at Melantha.
"Can you keep up?" he asked confidently, fully aware of her capabilities.
Her response was firm and resolute, her voice steady despite the pain she was undoubtedly feeling. "I won't allow myself the option not to."
That's when Dion chimed in, his words overlapping Brody's offer, "I'll make sure she doesn’t fall behind."
Charon's laughter echoed through the alley as he acknowledged their combined determination. Ciaran nodded in approval, "Then it's settled."
None of us questioned him or his decisions. This unspoken agreement, our silent hierarchy, had been established since we were young boys. Ciaran, my brother, Maverick, and Brody were the core of our unit, growing stronger with every obstacle we faced.
In the world we lived in, trust was scarce, and alliances often teetered on deceit. The bond between us was our greatest weapon and shield. It may not have been by blood, but it was just as vital and significant as the one I shared with my twin. At the heart of it all was Ciaran, who possessed a strategic mind, physical strength, and an unparalleled understanding of each of our strengths and weaknesses.
His attention returned to Lana, a silent communication passing between them. "Puppet?" he extended his bloodied hand toward her.
Lana's hesitation lasted but a heartbeat before her fingers wrapped around his with no comment on the blood now coating her too. The sight triggered a memory, a reminder of the night she had pledged her loyalty, and her hand had clasped Ciaran's as they made a vow. She bore it in the form of a scar, as did he.
A similar scar marked the skin of my own hand, a physical token of an unbreakable promise.
I looked down at Sunshine and saw she was staring at what lay beyond the alley. I wanted to touch her, to reassure her, but my hands were still stained. I wasn’t like Ciaran. I’d sooner flay my fucking flesh than sully hers with another’s essence. Silently, I reached into my hoodie and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves I’d only just remembered I had, slipping them on to shield her from a tainted touch. The only blood allowed on her was mine and when the mood allowed, hers.