Page 100 of Cruel Love

I fire three shots through the wall and a body tumbles to the floor in the hallway.

Gotcha.

I hoist myself off the floor, feeling a warm rush of adrenaline at the thought of seeing that bitch’s dead body on the floor.

I step out into the hallway and the butt of a rifle slams into my gut, knocking the wind out of me.

“You missed!” Myra taunts me. “How did you miss?!”

She hits my wrist with the rifle. I drop the pistol to the floor.

I grit my teeth. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Myra lifts the rifle to hit me again. I raise my hands to block the blow and take hold of the gun. Sharp edges dig into my palms, but I refuse to let her pry it away from me.

She bolts forward, forcing me into the wall. I cringe as pain fires down my back. I dig my left heel into the floor as I kick with my right, striking her as hard as I can in the crotch.

Myra seethes in pain but doesn’t fall. She twists the rifle, trying to knock me off-balance but I bear down with equal strength and brace myself to kick again.

She reacts on instinct, letting go of the rifle with one hand to try and block the second painful blow. I shove her harder, easily slamming the rifle into her porcelain face.

I hit her again and she releases the rifle, lashing out at me before I can pull off a third hit. Her perfectly painted fingernails dig into my neck, sending bolts of pain through my neck. I drop the rifle to try and stop her from clawing my trachea out. It tumbles to the floor between us and Myra kicks it far down the hall before slamming me into the wall again.

“Just let it happen, Lilah...” she growls, pressing harder to cut off the blood to my brain. “Sleep...” she coos. “Go to sleep...”

I claw at her hands, cursing the lonely spot taking over my vision.

“I won’t kill your boyfriend,” she says, her voice bright and bubbly. “Not right away. I’ll have a little fun with him first and we both know how much fun he can be, right? Just between us girls...”

My rage spikes. I grab her long, black locks and yank as hard as I can.

“Ow!” she shrieks as I tear several strands from her scalp. “That hurt!”

I pull again and she dips to the right, trying to retain as much of her precious hair as possible. I slam my knee into her gut. She releases my throat as she tumbles to her knees and I slink away to catch my breath.

Before I can take a second breath, she leaps onto my back and wails like a banshee in my ear. I reach back to grab whatever piece of her I can to try and flip her off me. I rush backward, crushing her between me and a bookshelf in the hall and she cries out even louder. I roll her over my shoulder and she falls to her back. I raise my foot, quickly aiming for her face with my heel but Myra dodges out of the way as I stomp down. I keep my foot on the ground, pinning her hair beneath it, and she growls in pain as she once again tears a few strands out.

With a grunt, she lashes out with tight fists, hitting the back of my knees to force a bend. I jolt backward to keep from losing the upper hand and grab the bookshelf teetering over her head. Myra’s eyes grow wide as she realizes the danger she’s in. I summon all my strength to pull the thing down to crush her stupid, fucking face.

She lunges away at the last moment but her right arm gets pinned beneath the heavy wood. I step up onto the shelf, making the wood dig into her wrist a little more. Delight tickles my chest as a few tears spring to her dead, black eyes. Maybe she’s human after all.

Won’t stop a damn thing, though.

Myra gives the shelf a jolt, sliding a bit of her arm free. I stomp again to make that a little bit harder for her. As she keeps her focus there, I hop off to stand next to her, charging up my leg and kicking her as hard as I can in the stomach. The force of it sends her backward and she slips her arm out from under the case, her fingers drippings with fresh blood.

“That broke... my nails,” she spits as she tries to breathe.

I kick her again, the blow partially blocked by her other arm. “You won’t live long enough to care,” I say.

I grab her throat. She opens her mouth to speak but I silence her with a jab to the nose. Tears stream down her cheeks and she recoils from the stinging pain no doubt radiating through her brain.

I punch her again, my knuckles popping loudly, but the pain is worth the gush of crimson blood falling from her nose and lips. A lump builds in my throat as memories threaten to come back. Elijah... blood pooling beneath him.

I shove Myra into the next room. She stumbles over the dead legs of one of her agents and trips, falling hard onto the edge of the glass coffee table behind her. It shatters beneath her and she winces at the broken shards digging into her palms as she tries to crawl away from me.

I kneel to free the pistol from the dead agent’s belt.

“Lilah...” Myra chokes on blood and spit.

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