Page 53 of What I Should Have Done

“Get your fucking hands off of her,” I snarled.

Startled by my voice, he briefly snapped his gaze toward me.

I slipped a knife from its sheath at my waist and hurled it through the air.

With a thwunk, it lodged right below his Adam’s apple, into his jugular notch. His eyes widened. A wet cough vibrated from his chest. He ripped his hands from Scottie’s neck, immediately reaching for my weapon caught in his throat.

But I was faster. As I lunged at him, my palm wrapped around the hilt and I twisted. Gurgling, he crashed backwards, landing on his back with me on top. Ripping the weapon out of his throat, there was no hesitation in my movement as I plunged the blade into his eye. Blood spurted from his open wound.

“How dare you…” I hissed, tearing the knife out again and stabbing it through the side of his neck. He clawed at my vest, squirming beneath me as life ebbed from his one untouched eye. “...put your fucking hands…” Ripping it out, I shoved it into his neck again. I wanted him to see who delivered his final blow. “...on her, you piece of shit.” My chest heaved. My fingers twisted the knife, ignoring the wet slithering of blood that flowed like a river from his open wounds.

And his gaze turned hollow. But that didn’t stop me from jerking the knife out and ramming it into the other side of his neck.

He stopped squirming beneath me. Arms that once attempted to rip me from his body flopped lifeless to the sand beside me. Twisting the hilt, the blade squelched through the skin and then I tore it from his neck. One last shudder and the warm body pinned beneath me stilled, turning to a corpse.

I drove the knife back into his throat one more time for good measure.

“Mikey?” a faint voice whispered.

As if a glow pierced through the haze, all the death that curled so deeply within my soul slithered back to the deepest depths.

Exhaustion crumpled me, and I caught my slump with my hands braced against the chest of the dead body below me. The haze in my head, the aggression fueling my fingers, cleared. And like a freight train loose from the tracks, the reality of my actions slammed into me.

Whatever strange friendship Scottie and I’d begun developing had blown up the moment I unleashed the fury I kept so tightly under lock and key. Gulping down rapid swallows of air, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look at her. I couldn’t look at her. I knew what would be in Scottie’s gaze. She would have that look in her eye confirming what I already knew—I was nothing but a monster, undeserving of something I so craved.

She would leave me the moment she could, as everyone else always did.

Chapter 19

SCOTTIE

“Mikey,” I whispered again, rubbing my bruised throat.

But he didn’t move. Not a muscle of his broad back twitched. His shoulders remained slumped forward, and I wondered how someone so absolutely powerful could suddenly look so utterly broken. He saved my life. He did his job very well. So well, in fact, that I knew these feelings of heat swirling warm in my belly were ill timed and inappropriate.

Except there was no stopping them. I didn’t want to fight them at this moment.

Even though there was another part of me upset with him. He hadn’t hesitated to put my life above his. I had no doubt that if it had come down to it, he wouldn’t have questioned death taking him if it meant saving me.

How dare he! Anger roared hot, but only for a brief moment.

How dare he… How strange how different the same three words could mean the longer I studied him.

I wasn’t ready to lose him; we’d only begun to scratch the surface, and for the first time in my life, I felt like someone saw me. Someone chose me. Even if I’d been practically forced onto the team, something had shifted for Mikey. He actually asked me questions.

And listened to my answers.

Taking a hesitant step toward him, my heart burned with this strange yearning. An ache new to my soul dragged my feet across the sand. A gentle breeze swirled grains of red and orange dust around the man still slouched on his knees. Crumpled beneath a burden I didn’t know about, his chest expanded, widening his broad shoulders.

And a crow, with feathers as black as night, swooped down into the ravine with a single caw. Pausing, I briefly shifted my gaze from Mikey’s hunched frame and tracked the bird. It swooped close to him, sending another spray of dust up around the man, and then shot off back into the sky, disappearing over the top of the canyon.

My skin tingled. I wasn’t a stranger to believing in legends and myths, but that was way too glaring in my face for it to be real. It couldn’t be.

Shaking free of the bonds telling me it was, I quietly continued on my way over to Mikey. Slowly, I slid over to his side, and my limbs went rigid.

Almost as dark as the feathers on the crow, dried blood stained the pant leg covering nearly the entirety of Mikey’s left thigh. Soaked in the iron liquid, I barely noticed the red covering his hands or splattered on the side of his face. Sand and dust coated much of his skin and uniform.

“You’re bleeding!” I gasped, louder than intended, and finally, his head whipped upright.

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