Page 27 of Lawless God

Tomorrow. It seems so far away on this never-ending night, but the responsibilities I have will arise again very soon. Finding my people, making sure they’re okay, preparing for survival…counting the dead. It’ll come too fast.

I drag myself to my bathroom. There’s a constant smell of burn in this house. It’s the same house I grew up in, my father’s. We were a family of four before my mom fucked off, escaping her abuser and leaving my brother Caden and me behind. Then it was up to us to deal with him. Until NSC tried to burn us down. Literally. I was unconscious when Caden dragged all of us out. By the time he went back for my dad, it was too late.

Caden lives in New York City now with his fiancée, and I sent my girls to live with my mom for their safety. I only found her again after my dad died. I barely knew her when she agreed to help. So it’s just me. My bedroom burned down, and so did my dad’s, so I live in Caden’s old room.

I haven’t been here in a couple of weeks. Ivan got a small house on the edge of town when we started dating, and I’ve been staying there for a while.

It’s strange being back in this shithole. The carpet is worn down and stained, one of the windows in the living room boarded up. It smells of cold ashes when I walk into the hallway, and the light there doesn’t even work.

I push the bathroom door open, and it creaks on its hinges. The main light doesn’t work here either.

Wonderful.

Hobbling to the sink, I leave my gun in it, feeling for the switch on the wall for the light above the mirror. I squint my eyes the moment it turns on, the reminder that I got hit at the back of the head a little too brutal.

When I feel for the back of my head with one hand, matted hair sticks to my fingers from the blood there. A groan escapes me when I accidentally press on the growing bump.

“Shit,” I hiss.

I grab a bottle of painkillers, some disinfectant for the cuts on my body, and a lot of cotton balls. My nose is blocked and something warm is still running down my face. I haven’t seen myself, but I already know I’ve got a bad nosebleed.

I have to use my hand, now covered in blood, to hold the sink as I feel the dizziness come back. Everything is tenfold now that the adrenaline is running out. I can barely breathe from the hits on my ribs, and the muscles at my lower back are frozen.

My breath comes in short bursts as I finally close the vanity, but my gasp is loud when I see a shadow behind me.

I instantly reach for the gun, but he’s much quicker than me. In a split second, he’s at my back, his own hand twisting mine to grab the weapon himself. And when he leans closer to me, his mouth just above my ear and his face finally lit up by the vanity light, I know tonight is far, far from over.

Before prison, his dirty blond hair was always tied in a tight bun at the back of his head, but it’s shorter now. Long enough that it’s brushed back, as if he ran his fingers through it. Only one rebellious strand falls just at the corner of his left eye, resting on the rim of his glasses.

He smiles at me. His beautiful, wicked smile that promises pain. Any kind of pain. Mental, physical, emotional. As long as it hurts me.

The gun points at me, the barrel against my throat and the muzzle just under my chin.

“Well done for not dying out there. Three guys against you. Tsk, cowards.”

I struggle to swallow, feeling my throat move against my own gun. He’s not wearing a suit as I remember he always did. I can’t quite see his jeans, but I notice he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt, showing the countless tattoos that cover his arms and all the way to his fingers. He fought, he followed me to the woods, and he came here.

“You were watching,” I rasp.

Our gazes lock in the mirror. His night eyes brighten, as his free hand fists my hair, making me wince from the already unbearable pain at my skull.

“Of course I was. What if they broke my toy before I even got to play with it?”

I glance at the black weapon against my pale skin and look up at him again. “Kill me.”

This is the best outcome I can hope for. For him to end this now. I sent him to prison. I testified against him, lied through my teeth in front of the jury. Almost four years of freedom was enough. I would rather die than go through the punishment he’s had years to plan.

A rumble starts in his chest before he laughs loudly in my ear. “Are you kidding me? Kill you?”

“I’m not doing this again with you,” I hiss, stupidly attempting to move in his hold and making the pain worse. “Fucking kill me, Nate, because I’m not going back to playing your games.”

Leaning even closer, his lips graze my ear as he whispers, “You’re doing whatever I tell you to do, Kay. So if I say you live, then you fucking live until I order otherwise.”

He leaves a kiss so soft below my ear, my eyes flutter shut. It takes all of me not to let a sigh breeze past my lips. I vaguely feel a release at the back of my head, his hand leaving my hair. When I open my eyes again, he’s got a needle pointed at the side of my neck.

“No,” I whimper, but the needle’s already pricking my skin, inserting whatever is in there into my veins by the time more words tumble out of my mouth. “What is it?”

“This?” He pulls his hand away and throws the injection in the sink. “Just a little something to help me carry you to your next destination.”

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