Page 25 of Monstrous Grave

I make the stupid decision to stalk forward, refusing to be a little rabbit running away into the hole to hide until the predators are out of their way.

I step beside the bodies scattered around the asphalt, attempting to avoid the blood even if it’s everywhere, seeping through the ground and tainting it forever.

“I won’t tell you twice. Show your face.”

Silence greets me once again, just the sound of the wind as it knocks against the metal of the containers. I stop walking when I reach one, peeking around the corner.

It’s empty, and my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm, tossed around the confines of my brain. Back here, the surroundings are cloaked in obscurity, three containers enveloping the area. Amidst the maze of metal, a small path opens up to my right, leading out onto the other side of the dock.

Slowly, I grab my phone from my pocket, ready to call Alec even if I’m disobeying their commands of not bringing Viper. No way in hell am I bringing that asshole, even if I’ve never met him. I’ve heard enough rumors about him and his goddamn family, how they’ve ruined more people than they’ve helped. There was even a shady deal between them and the Valentis, though I haven’t heard the details of what went down.

I’m just about to press the call button when the oxygen is knocked out of me, my body forcefully pushed against the metal of one of the containers, as if I’m held by an unknown entity. Both my gun and phone clatter to the ground with a reverberating thud.

I let out a yelp that is quickly silenced by something covering my mouth, preventing me from uttering a single word. My eyes are wide, and my lungs fight for breath.

One moment, I’m alone; the next, I’m confronted by a solid and hard wall preventing me from moving. Confusion clouds my mind as I try to understand what’s happening, my brain refusing to cooperate with the rest of my mind. Did a container fall?

Then, I feel it—shudders crawling down my spine like spiders seeking their prey, wanting to scare you off with their too-thin legs running all over you. Disgusting, small insects, horrifying with no point to this world. That’s what I feel when something presses against my throat, the moon glinting on the item’s surface.

A knife.

There’s someone in front of me, holding a goddamn knife to my throat. The blade presses against my skin, threatening to draw blood. My pulse thunders so loud, someone could feel it if they touched my pulse point.

The confusion dissipates as the moon glows, offering some light between the containers and casting shadows on whoever is here with me.

A man, equally as tall, stands before me, broad shoulders held in a posture radiating confidence and something more potent. Like a simmering fire existing underneath the skin, he holds the emotion of anger.

Narrowing my eyes, I feel slightly less brave with a knife against me. I curse myself for dropping the gun, knowing I could have used it as a weapon to protect myself. Now, the darkened figure before me is the one with the advantage.

He presses the knife harder, leaving a stinging sensation, and I know blood must be drawn, a smaller wound forming. His entire form is shrouded in shadows, making me unable to see more of his features.

It feels like minutes in which he merely stands there, drawing precious drops of crimson liquid while not doing anything else. There’s a lethal kind of beauty in the dangers around me, and only one question echoes in my mind. If he were the enemy, why isn’t he killing me?

Tilting his head as if studying me closely, I finally notice the motorcycle helmet that obscures his face. My soul somersaults within the confines of my bones, losing its grip on me as the realization hits me like an explosion caused by a bomb.

“Do you have any fucking idea of the mess you’ve created between our families?” he growls out, voice laced with an anger that can’t be tamed.

For a second, I’m stunned to silence, unable to make sense of any of this. The next, I’m looking into his eyes—or at least what I think are his eyes through the visor of the helmet—sneering at him.

A mistake, I realize, when he applies more pressure with the knife, widening my eyes with the chilling fear that he’s actually going to cut me.

He drives me back against the container, my skull colliding with the surface as it elicits a throbbing ache. The tilt of his head, more aggressive now, underscores the depth of his rage, his next words dripping with seething animosity. “Do you?”

I decide not to reply, frankly unable to with how tight he grips me. I fear that if I utter a word, the blade will cut deeper than it already has, and it’s a risk I can’t take.

As if noticing my train of thought, he slowly removes the knife, but his hand remains just as steady on me, preventing me from going anywhere.

“You were supposed to bring me with you, Arcane.” He spits out my name as if it’s a curse, leaving a disgusting aftertaste on his tongue that he needs to get rid of.

Within a moment of resolution, I will my muscles to loosen, using my arm to wrench free from his grip and throw an uppercut, leaving him stumbling back from shock. It gives me the escape I need to slip out of my confinement, using my foot to kick away my gun so he won’t reach it.

“You’re Viper, huh?” I pronounce his name with as much hatred as I can muster, letting my words pour out with a tone laced with disgust, much more potent than his. I take a step back right when he takes one forward, showing how pathetic I am, and I scold myself. “Tell your boss I have no intention of working with you,” I spit out.

Yet again, that tilt of his head betrays emotions I can’t decipher. I’m left grappling with the mystery of his expression and cannot discern his facial features or any clues to his identity beneath the helmet. All are covered by a single helmet, hiding him from the world. Somehow, I’m still sure he’s the Viper. One of the most notorious bikers in the whole Penumbra Crest.

“I’m my own boss.” There’s a scoff in his voice as he says this, and though I can’t see his eyes, I know they’re staring right at me.

His sheer presence is overwhelming, taking over the eerie space around us until it becomes one sole thing—him.

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