Page 76 of Judge's Mercy

“Why are we in trouble for something those gross boys did?”

“Girls are more emotionally mature than boys, so it’s up to us to keep them from having impure thoughts,” I explain.

Her head tilted to the side, and her brows lifted as she thought, “That’s shit.”

I grinned at her use of a swear word, even though she didn’t say it out loud. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“Yeah, it was.”

That memory makes me sad, not only because of how warped and twisted my dad’s parenting was, but also because Tinleigh and I don’t have that kind of relationship anymore. If I was to look into her eyes right now, I wouldn’t have a clue what she was thinking.

When the guard bends over and drops me to the concrete like a sack of potatoes, I don’t bother holding back my tears. All my emotions, the good and bad, are amplified by a thousand and too big for me to hold inside. Why would anyone want to feel this way?

The lights go out, leaving me in such stark darkness that I can’t tell what’s real from what the drug is tricking my mind into thinking is real. Fear takes hold, and I scoot my ass along the concrete until I hit the back corner of my cell. In the black abyss in front of me, a demon claws its way out of the concrete and crawls toward me, snarling. Telling myself it isn’t real, I try to blink it out of existence, but it’s still there. Screaming, I kick my legs out and cover my face with my hands in sheer terror.

When nothing grabs me, I peer through my fingers, only to see another one flying over me, diving down like a hawk stalking a mouse. I fall to my side, getting lower to the ground, as if that would help. One evil demon after the next comes after me. Every muscle in my body is tense as I fight to beat them off.

“Shit. She’s having a bad trip,” someone shouts. “We need to restrain her before she hurts herself.”

I know the sounds I hear are supposed to be words, but they don’t register. The bright fluorescent lights kick on, and I think I’ll be safe now, but the demons are still there, and this time, they get me. My arms are held above my head, and my ankles are yanked until my legs are straight. I always knew I’d go to hell for the things I did, and I was ready to suffer that consequence, but I didn’t think it’d be like this.

I jolt upright, my forehead slamming into a solid surface. The demon’s grip on my wrists is suddenly gone as he cries out in pain, but I have no time to pause. I need to escape. With a burst of otherworldly strength coursing through my body, I lash out wildly with my legs, making contact with something fleshy. Miraculously, it works, and the demon’s hold on my ankles is released. Relief washes over me like a tidal wave. Thank fucking god.

“My nuts! She kicked me in the nuts,” the demon whines. Jumping to my feet, I run out of the cell and away from the evil. I take the stairs two at a time, pumping my arms and ignoring my protesting muscles.

The left. I need to run to the left. As I make it down the hall and into the kitchen, my head moves on a swivel, looking for my way out and away from the hell that awaits me. I hook a right at the end of the hall and yank the door open so hard, it bounces off the wall before nearly falling to my ass when I run right into another demon. Shit. How will I get away now?

“Fuck,” the demon curses, and then his hands are all over me, trying to get control of my flailing body. “What the hell? Myla? Damn it. Oh, fuck. We gotta get you out of here.”

“No! No! No! Let go of me. I’m not ready. Not ready.” I struggle, but most of my fight is gone; every last ounce of energy was exhausted downstairs.

Maybe this is how it was always meant to be. I did as much damage as I could to as many perpetrators as I could, but now, it’s time for me to rejoin my kind down under. I knew taking a life was wrong, and I did it anyway, so it’s where I belong. There’s no use fighting it.

Falling limp, I succumb to my future, allowing the evil creature to carry me to hell.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JUDGE

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel as the door opens, and I come face-to-face with a naked Myla, screaming something about demons. I try to grab her, to bring her into my arms, but she fights me with superhuman strength she shouldn’t have. Then, out of nowhere, her eyes close, and she collapses. I don’t have any idea what’s wrong with her, but I don’t have time to question it. I have to get her out of here right the fuck now.

I lift her into my arms and run. Anywhere else, and I’d worry about someone calling the cops—it can’t be every day you see a biker carry a naked and unconscious woman down the street—but in this neighborhood, people mind their business. They might find it odd, but after an initial peek, they’ll close their curtains and move on.

I don’t hear the shot so much as I hear the bullet whiz by my head. Whoever’s shooting has a silencer on. I briefly glance down at Myla, making sure she hasn’t been struck before I turn the corner to where I parked Myla’s car. Thank fuck I had the foresight to drop my bike at her house before heading out here.

I place her in the backseat, trying to be gentle but efficient, when another shot is fired. This time, I know it hits the car door window and shatters, pieces of tempered glass falling on my back. Fuck. I’m running out of time, so I apologize as I shove Myla’s legs into the vehicle, pausing for only a second to take notice of a blood-soaked bandage on her arm before ducking behind the door to see what I’m up against.

A glance down the road shows a man with blood dripping from his nose and onto his white dress shirt. Goddamn, someone got him good. Pulling out my Glock that definitely isn’t silenced, I aim and fire, trying to buy enough time to get around the car and into the driver’s seat. I miss—which doesn’t surprise me since I don’t get as much practice in as my brothers—but it makes the asshole realize this is now a fair fight. He dives behind Myla’s bike, not hiding his body completely, but all his major organs are covered.

Aiming again, I fire off a couple rounds, this time hitting the seat, windshield, and frame of Myla’s bike. She’s gonna be pissed at me for that one. He returns fire, blowing out the rear window of the car and leaving holes in the trunk. I won’t have a running car if I don’t get out of here soon.

My heart pounds in my chest as I take a deep breath, adrenaline surging through my veins like a raging river. With a silent prayer on my lips, I count to three and slam the door shut, my instincts taking over as I sprint around the rear of the car. The lingering threat of danger propels me forward as I keep my aim steady and unleash round after round.

My eyes lock onto a second figure crouched behind the corner of the house, using it as a shield. I have not one but two assailants aiming their weapons at me. Perfect. I take aim and fire, hitting the first one in the gut and dropping him to his knees, but before I can celebrate, the second one unleashes a storm of bullets in my direction.

I narrowly dodge the barrage of deadly projectiles as I open the car door and throw myself into the driver’s seat before slamming it shut. My hands shake as I press the ignition button and slam on the gas, only to hear the engine rev. Shit, shit, shit. I’m not in fucking drive. I need to get it together because one mistake could mean life or death. Shifting into gear this time, I shove the gas pedal to the floor. The tires screech, and the backend fishtails as I pull away from the curb, hearing the ting of bullets spraying the car.

I keep my eyes on the rearview mirror, making sure no one follows us, but I’m not used to this, and every car looks the same when your heart is pounding and there’s a whooshing sound pulsing in your ears you can’t make go away. Is that normal?

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