Page 4 of Golden Burn

A screech flies from my lips, my hands flying to cover my mouth.

Greg tumbles backward and crumples into a ball, crashing hard on the unforgiving floor.

Oh my God.

“What the fuck!” I scream. The man re-adjusts his stance, appearing completely unaffected by the fact he just booted an old man across the room.

Greg jumps to his knees in a flash. “How dare you!” He charges, his injuries forgotten. He reminds me of a bull, the way he drops his head, squares his body, using his legs as momentum. It’s barbaric.

I scream again.

With brutal efficiency, the handsome stranger punches Greg right in the nose and kicks him again in the ribs, sending him flying to the wall where he lands with an audibleoomph. Blood oozes from his nose as he struggles to get his breath back.

“Stop this!” I screech.

The man looks at me and says casually, “Don’t feel bad for him. He deserves it.”

“Why—what? What is going on?” My thighs bump into the reception desk. The phones! My eyes stay pinned to the brutal man as I race around. I have to call the police. I have to call thepolice.

No, you can’t. They might start to ask questions, they might discover what you’ve been doing.

A battle wages subconsciously about whether it’s worth being caught. In the end, my fear overrides my pride. I pick up the phone, my heart racing so fast it hurts, and dial 911. The line doesn’t respond. It’s completely dead. I try again and again and again.What is happening?

My mobile phone is in the break room charging.Shit.

“Harriet, come here,” the man demands. I look up, completely startled.

White-hot panic in my chest seizes control of my lungs. I shake my head. “No. No fucking way.”

He turns his chin in my direction. He removes his sunglasses in one smooth motion before placing them into a pocket inside his coat.

I can see his eyes now. Well, his eye. The other is covered with an eyepatch decorated in what appears to be gold. Is he a demon or something?I don’t have time to process, because Greg starts to cackle like a hyena with a fresh kill.

The man with the eyepatch returns his attention to his victim. “Remember me, old man?”

Greg continues laughing, filling the reception with the horribly unnatural sound. “If it isn’t the Bolt Bastard.”

“Good to know your memory is still intact.”

My hands and knees shake in a harmonious rhythm as I watch on. “You need to leave. Now,” My voice cracks with panic. “I’m calling the police.”

“With what phone?” eyepatch guy asks.How does he know the phone line is dead?He may appear as though he is unaffected by this scenario, but I can tell there’s a minute layer of anticipation, of glee. My breath turns haggard, like shards of ice sawing through my chest. Before me, the stranger I deemed handsome morphs into something terrifying.

“Come here, Harriet,” he beckons me. If this was any other situation, I would go to him like a bee hunting for pollen. But we are not standing in a bar watching live music, or meeting in a park to have a picnic, or sitting across from each other on a date. We are at my place of work, and he’s awful.

“I said no!” I roar. How dare he come in here and order me around!

His eye narrows at me. “I need you to mind Juniper while I deal with this.”

“Take it outside,” I say again and jab my finger at the door for added effect. “Please, just take it outside.”

He shakes his head, tsking under his breath. “Then you’ll miss all the fun.”

Tears are beginning to pool in my eyes. My system is boiling with adrenaline, and yet, when he holds the lead out toward me, my feet move of their own accord. I don’t want to see him do anything to hurt Juniper.

I run so fast my new shoes slip on the floor. I grab the lead, ignoring the fact that when I brush the man’s hands they register as warm, not ice cold. Once I’m back safely behind the desk, Juniper tucked between my legs, he straightens and rolls back his shoulders. “Stand up, Gregory. Take your final moments like the devil you are.”

“Fuck you,” Greg barks. “What took you so long, huh?”

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