Page 79 of Mayflower

“Kneel, Raven!” Butcher roars. “And crawl to me! Crawl to your boy! Before I blow his brains out!”

Sonny whimpers, his face wet, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Fuuuuck!

There’s nothing in the world that can hold me back. I have a flashback to the horrible night in the basement with Emily.

“I did it, Mathew. I did it. I got you. I got you,” she murmurs as she holds the bloody broken bottle in her hands, and our foster father’s body is splayed on the floor in a pool of blood.

My mind glitches. Blood pounds in my ears.

I can’t say no. I can’t. It’s a sacrifice. For the little dude. For everything I hold dear. Skiba failed, but Butcher wants an execution.

A shot pierces the air. Something suddenly hits my chest like a knife going a hundred miles an hour, jerking me backward.

Butcher’s gun is pointing at me. He fucking shot me in the bulletproof vest!

I turn my head over my shoulder. “Don’t shoot!” I yell to the guards and turn back to Butcher.

“Oops! I missed!” He cackles, but his cheerful, psychotic expression turns into an angry scowl. “Crawl.” He nods to the ground.

Eyes locked with Sonny, I sink to my knees.

The immediate pain of glass piercing my knees is maddening, and I grit my teeth. They use needles for torture, did you know that? They are more effective than punches, because they hit more nerve endings.

But I breathe deeply, forcing myself to be calm as I look at Sonny.

He snaps his eyes shut, tears streaming, then opens his eyes again.

“It’s okay,” I mouth.

“All fours,” Butcher taunts.

I cannot not obey.

Butcher raises his gun and shoots in the air, then presses the barrel to Sonny’s head, making him flinch.

No sound comes from behind me. The guards don’t move. Good. I’m grateful. I can handle this.

Suddenly, Butcher points the gun at me and fires, sharp pain tearing at my shoulder, throwing me back.

“Noooo!” Maddy’s scream behind me tears through the air.

“Bingo!” Butcher shouts. “Crawl!”

Blood rushes to my brain. Sharp pain saturates my shoulder. He fucking shot me. The vest didn’t save me.

How many more bullets will come until one hits my head?

But there’s no way back.

“Come on, Raven!” he taunts.

I peel my eyes open, fighting through pain, and bring my palms to the ground. My head raised, eyes on Butcher, I grunt through the pain as the glass shards sink into my flesh.

Butcher’s brows tick. “There you go!” He lifts his chin. “Crawl!” he drawls.

Fuck.

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