Page 73 of Mad Love

“I guess so.” I hear her burning cigarette paper. “Enjoy the quiet while it lasts, Archer.” She lowers to a whisper. “It’s about to get very loud…”

I drop the phone to the ground and smash it beneath my heel.

Chapter 21

Lilah

I stop on the front porch.

Wind chills my skin. Insects buzz around me. Water slaps against the dock across the lawn. It’s the same as it always is out here but the inside of the house won’t be the same ever again.

My ankles fuse to the wood beneath me, refusing to take another step.

Dante pauses as well, his legs just as stiff and cold as mine are, and we stand together in the darkness.

Lucy opens the front door, her eyes wide with worry as she studies our wounded faces. “What happened?” she asks.

Dante inhales but the air slips right back out.

She looks behind us, growing more terrified. “Where’s Elijah?”

The sob strikes me down and I drop to my knees. My hands break my fall, but I struggle to hold myself up as tears spill onto my blood-soaked fingers.

Whispering voices fade in and out above me. I can’t make out the words through my own gasping breaths but whatever they are, they make Lucy walk back inside.

Dante lowers himself down to sit beside me. His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me in, holding me against his chest with unyielding strength.

“I’ve got you, little sister,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

Chapter 22

Lilah

Then

I killed a man.

Put a gun against his head. Pulled the trigger, now he’s dead.

It’s not how it is in the movies. There was no crescendo of music. No dramatic break of tension. Just a few pounds of pressure, a bit of recoil, and then... he was on the ground.

“Good job, baby girl. Tomorrow, we’ll get you tatted-up!”

As much as I hated Mercer calling me baby girl (and the fact that he said it with his hand firmly planted on my ass), I really feel like I did a good job. I killed a man and received praise for it. Some nameless man I never saw before. I killed him... and it felt good. I felt powerful. I felt important.

I protected my family. Even Gramps would be proud, right?

“Hey.”

I flinch beneath the steaming shower head. “Dammit, Eli...” I say with an annoyed gasp.

He chuckles from behind the curtain. “Did I scare you?” he asks.

I turn the water off and wipe it from my eyes before extending my arm through the curtain for my towel hanging just out of reach.

“A little,” I answer.

Elijah puts the towel in my hand. I unfold it and look down at my bare, ink-less chest. Tomorrow, I’ll have a cobra tattoo. Just like Dante’s.

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