Page 125 of Shades of Silver City

“We’re making up,” Reed barks. “Tell her,” he whispers so only I can hear. “Tell her to get the fuck out.” His fingers tighten ever so slightly in warning before loosening to allow me to speak.

Stace might not be my favorite person, but she had my back when the Scouts were searching for me. She warned me. She didn’t turn me in.

I can’t let her get hurt because of Reed—because of me.

“Leave us alone, Stace,” I croak out.

“Are you—”

“Get out of here,” I say. “Give us some space for once, dammit.”

“Fine,” she whines, obviously hurt. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Get out of the apartment,” I hiss. Hopefully she’ll pick up on my tone and leave. She’ll spot Archer downstairs. I don’t need him to save me, but my Gods, I do appreciate him being here.

Reed pets my hair, calling me his good girl, and my stomach clenches violently. I swallow the rising bile while he continues to feed me a quiet mixture of sweet nothings and cruel warnings.

A moment later, Stace sighs. Soft footsteps patter away, and the front door clicks open and then clicks shut. My body slumps, relieved that she listened to me.

Reed releases his grip on me just enough that I’m able to wiggle free. Quickly, I spin around, striking his nose with my open palm.

“You bitch!” he shouts. The back of his hand whips out and strikes my cheek so quickly that I see stars and taste blood before I register what happened.

Of all the ways I thought I might meet my death, I never would’ve guessed it’d be in a fistfight with Reed.

I’ve got to get out of here, but he’s blocking the way out of the kitchen. He stands there, smiling at me grimly, with blood spurting out of his nose and down his face, staining his teeth.

I quickly run through my options. He doesn’t seem to be experiencing pain. Getting past him isn’t likely. I could reach for one of the knives stowed away in the drawer behind me, provided I’m quick enough, or I could hop over the counter and bolt for the door.

Neither option is perfect, but they are both better than the alternatives.

We’re coming, a deep, unrecognizable voice says in my head.

I’m losing it.

Deciding the knife is my best option, I shuffle backward as subtly as possible. I reach my fingers out behind me, searching for the drawer and work quickly, tugging it open, but he’s too fast.

He’s beside me in an instant, slamming the drawer shut and barely missing my fingers.

“Please,” I whisper. I stare into his eyes, searching for any sign of recognition.

But he’s gone.

Someone—something—unfamiliar, tortured stares back.

But it’s not my Reed.

It hits me then, why the soul-shades turn grey despite the person being alive. Their souls are long gone, and something unnatural has taken their place, something driven forward by one thing: violence.

“I’m taking you with me, Tasia,” Reed says as he steps forward, reaching for my throat again.

I duck under his hand, but he must have anticipated the move because he’s ready for me. He wraps his hands around my still-sore windpipe again.

This time, his grip is unrelenting. He means what he said.

He is going to kill me.

I flail and fight, kicking him with every bit of power in my body. But slowly, the room around me begins to fade out. The fight leaves my body, and my limbs fall limp at my sides.

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