Page 245 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“Why were you talking to my stepdad? To Philip?” I ask them. “What does he have to do with this? What does he mean to get rid of Briar?”

They ignore me.

“Call Ron again,” One of them says. “Tell them we got the money and to kill the girl.”

“Do we have to kill her?” His friend asks with an evil grin. “She’s fucking hot. Maybe we could use her for other means.”

Briar.

“Touch her, and I will fucking kill you both,” I growl, getting their attention.

They just laugh at me.

“Don’t worry, we won’t do shit,” One of them says. “Jack and Ron will.”

“What does Philip have to do with any of this?” I snap. “Tell me!”

“I don’t know, man,” One of them sighs. “I guess there’s history between your girlfriend and stepdad.”

“That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” His partner taunts. “You don’t find it odd that they knew each other in the past?”

“I already know about the animosity between the two, but why the fuck did Philip get me involved in all of this?” I snap, confused as fuck.

They ignore me. Again.

“Ron’s not answering. Maybe he’s already sampling the goods, if you know what I mean.”

“I bet her cunt is as tight as that ass.”

Briar. They’re going to hurt Briar.

Fuck, Briar’s uncle planned all this, and he somehow roped my stepdad in, didn’t he?

I open my mouth to yell at them, to tell them that if they hurt Briar, I will end them. But nothing leaves my lips because I can feel my heart painfully thudding against my ribcage, each beat echoing in my ears as I continuously inhale air back into my lungs.

Briar.

Oh God, is she safe?

As soon as I’m able to breathe a little better, I shift my weight from side to side, trying to manipulate the ropes holding me down. “Let me fucking go!”

They both finally give me their attention as they try to stop me. I manage to free one of my legs and immediately kick one of their shins, earning a punch in the face.

“He says not to hurt him!” One of the men says.

“Then do something to calm him down, damn it!”

I’m pissed, hurt, and I’m feeling rather murderous.

I continue shouting at them both when the door slams open.

I freeze at the sight of a bloodied woman, her eyes wide and wild, her hair a complete mess, resembling a deranged siren.

I’ve never seen anyone look so beautiful.

“Briar?” I croak, my voice barely above a whisper.

Before I could blink twice, she’d already shot the men and somehow stabbed the other man in the throat with a flying knife that looked decorated with pink jewels. If I weren’t already losing my mind, I would have laughed at the absurdity of a flying knife.

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