Page 11 of Slay Bells Ring

My arms are outstretched, tied to each bedpost. Tensing my muscles, I’m able to pull myself up so I’m sitting between my arms instead of laying on my back. Once I’m seated, I can get a better look at the type of knot she used—which’ll then guide what I do next. If it’s too complicated of a knot, I’ll have to break the damn bedposts to get free, but if it’s an easy knot, I might be able to lean over and loosen it with my teeth.

Turns out Holly isn’t a Girl Scout, because the knot is nothing special.

I have to pull my left arm so much it strains against the rope keeping it in place while I bend my torso over to get to work. My body’s not the most flexible, but I make up for it in sheer strength. I can hear the bedpost straining with my movement, the old wood creaking as it bends while I finally reach the rope with my teeth.

She could’ve tied me tighter, too. Holly made lots of mistakes here. She might be vengeful and pissed off, but she’s no criminal mastermind.

All it takes is finding the right piece with my teeth for me to loosen the knot enough to wriggle my right wrist free. It doesn’t take me long. Once my right wrist is free I can easily untie my left.

I don’t know how long Holly will pout, and I’m not going to take any chances. When she comes back in here, I’ll be ready.

Once I’m free, I crawl off the bed without making another sound and go to hide against the wall the door is on, half behind the open door. She won’t see me when she walks in, but she will see the unoccupied bed.

Doesn’t matter. It won’t be unoccupied for long.

You’d think killing is a very proactive sport, but most of the time it requires a lot of waiting and patience. Working for the Guild, you learn to do things right, wait until you have the best opportunity. A clean kill. A clean shot. An easy exit. You never rush in blindly, lest you fuck something up. All this to say: I’m good with waiting for Holly to return.

My hands flex as I wait near the door, listening for her footsteps. Every muscle in my body is primed and ready for action, my hangover the last thing on my mind. I’m ready to turn the tables on Holly fucking Cooper.

I don’t know how many minutes pass. Time is a funny thing when you have nothing to do but wait. Eventually I hear the creaking of the wooden floor as Holly comes back. She walks slowly through the cabin, taking her time in returning to the lone bedroom.

She steps foot into the room and immediately sees I’m not where she left me. Two words escape her, “What the—” It’s all she can say, because I lunge for her after that.

Holly hears me, but she’s not as fast as I am. She’s not as good at close combat, so her reaction time doesn’t do her any favors. I come at her from behind and I make short work of her by grabbing the wrist near the knife to keep her from wildly swinging it behind her and wrap my other arm around her neck.

As I yank her small body toward mine she lets out a grunt and a coarse “No!” But it’s too late. She can’t stop me. I have her right where I want her, and with her knife hand held at bay, she’s as good as useless.

I tighten the muscles around her neck, slowing the flow of blood to her brain and making her woozy. She slaps my forearm, but that doesn’t do a thing, and within seconds her slaps become halfhearted. The knife drops from her other hand as her grip weakens. It’s not long at all before she goes limp against me—and it’s only then that I loosen my arm around her neck.

Her unconscious head falls forward. If I step away from her, she’d fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. I… I shouldn’t care to be gentle with her, but that’s exactly what I am as I keep her upright and leaning against me.

Holly has every right to hate me and want me dead. I can’t fault her for that. That night scarred me, made me into the man I am today, so I can only imagine what it was like for her.

I bend over and scoop her up. She’s nothing more than a ragdoll in my arms as I carry her to the bed and tie herup in much the same way she tied me. I do the closest wrist first, and then lean over her body to tie the other.

As I pull away from her, I stare down at her face for a few seconds. Her lips parted, Holly wears a serene look I’m certain she never wears when she’s conscious. This girl… she is what she is today because of me. There’s no denying that.

Fuck. Can’t say I ever thought I’d see her again, let alone in a situation like this.

Staring down at her, I just don’t see a killer. She might want to be one, but she isn’t. I can tell. These things… some people just don’t have it in them. It might be nice to dream of vengeance when you’re full of hatred, but there are just some people in this world who could never kill.

I sigh as I pull away from her. I go to pick up the knife. Its reflective steel shows me nothing but a face of a man I don’t recognize, a face that’s not mine.

I glance at the girl, then back at the knife, at my reflection. I bring a hand to my jawline, running my fingers over my beard. It’s not like I was trying to grow it out on purpose; it just sort of happened because I stopped giving a shit.

Why give a shit when my plan was to end it all this holiday season?

But things aren’t what they should be. I’m not alone here. I don’t think I’ll be walking out that cabin door with the intent on letting the snow have me. Holly royally fucked up my final days.

Shit. Might as well just do it.

While Holly’s unconscious, I take the knife into the bathroom and use it to scrape off the beard clinging to myface. She wants the hitman who killed her family thirteen years ago? She’ll get him.

Chapter Seven – Holly

I groan as I come to, everything a little fuzzy in my head. I don’t really remember where I am or how I got there, and it takes me a while to open my eyes. When I do, I find I’m in a tiny bedroom with a lone window showing the thick snowfall outside, a winter wonderland.

Oh, right. That’s where I am.

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