Page 105 of The Ripper

I got in my car and called her again as I started the engine and prepared to pull out of the parking space when the door opened and Damiano got in.

“Get the fuck out,” I gritted my teeth as the leather crunched under my fingertips from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

Ring.

Or maybe I was just imagining that strength, because my hands felt clammy, and my eyes kept darting back and forth as if I expected someone or something to materialize out of the ground to tell me it was all some fucking sick joke.

“No,” he said simply. “Drive.”

Ring.

I opened my mouth to say something while my fingers itched to punch him straight in his stupid face and knock out some of his teeth.

~ Or all of them. I vote for all of them.

I really wanted to punch him, but my hands refused to move in his direction while my brain kept yelling at me that I was wasting time, so I kept my mouth shut and did what the fucker told me.

I drove.

With every car I passed, my heart hammered harder, and I felt as though it was on the verge of bursting out of my chest because I was about to fucking lose it. My mind, my heart, my fucking everything.

Every second that withered away felt like a deep cut, strategically placed to inflict maximum pain without killing me.

I floored the gas when I heard the fire department sirens sounding in the distance.

Panic.

Voicemail.

“Nakhuy moyu zhizn’[15].”

I punched the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, honking at the idiot with the van who cut me off at the intersection.

“I must say, I didn’t expect the great Ripper to almost tear his hair out over a woman,” he sneered.

Before he could continue his stupid train of thought, I pulled out my gun and pressed it to his temple, which made the fucker laugh.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” I spoke through my teeth as I turned left onto my street and almost ran over someone in the crosswalk.

Damiano raised his arms defensively, turned his head towards me and pressed his forehead harder against the barrel of the gun.

“I’m not your enemy, Grimm,” he said seriously this time, leaving his mocking tone and sarcastic nature behind, that stupid grin gone. “We got off on the wrong foot, I know, but our score is settled. I don’t dwell on the past, and I’m here to help, amico.”

“I’m not your fucking friend,” I muttered as I slammed on the brakes and nearly crashed into the closed road sign.

“That’s not good,” he said as we got out of the car.

~ No shit, genius, what gave it away?

The monster inside me leisurely paced back and forth in front of the door.

I prayed.

I didn’t agree nor disagree with his statement as I made my way around the sign and pushed my way through the crowd on foot, each step making the knives dig deeper into me.

Some of them were the neighbors I never bothered to say hello to in the lobby, others were firefighters and police officers, but none of them were my security guards and none of them were her.

Looking for a face in a crowd was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but she wasn’t just a face. Arella was a feeling, and as I continued to push my way through the sea of people who were nothing but faceless, useless obstacles, I couldn’t feel her.

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