Page 11 of Bathed in Blood

I take another step backwards, closer to the stranger.Henotices, his arm coming back ever so slightly, tugging me closer as he twirls something in his hand that I can’t see.

“I don’t know, Jax. I quite like my odds.” Whatever I picked up to kill him with, maybe. My mask is lopsided on my head, my hands trembling as I reach up to tug it off.

“How the fuck you know my name?”

Vince’s eyes dart to Christian’s arm where it cages me against his back. “Lana, come here,” he orders.

I can’t.

Can I?

“Take a step, princess, and I kill you too.” Christian’s voice chills me, goosebumps breaking out over my skin.

“Lana!” Vince booms. My entire body wants to collapse in at the sound. I’ve never heard him so loud. His gun isn’t pointed at the floor anymore—it’s pointed atme. “Come here. Let’s not forget what you stand to lose. You don’t know him. You’re ours, Lana.”

I’m the breeze. How could I forget? Only, what’s a summer breeze in the face of so many storms? I crane my neck, getting a lungful of Christian’s aftershave as I look towards Anton’s body. The sight of him bloody on the floor doesn’t fill me with theimmediate relief I thought it would. My breath shudders from my lungs as self-preservation, for the first time in years, forces me into action.

My heel clacks loudly against the floor as I lurch away from Christian—not towards Vince, but the overturned cart. My knees scrape along the rough concrete as a once eerily calm room erupts into chaos again. A shot rings out, and in the reinforced bunker they use as their kill room, it's deafening. My hand grasps the only thing close enough. Ironically enough, it’s the jug of acid. More shots rattle my brain, and I’m only vaguely aware of Vince gaining on me as I rip the cap open, throwing the entire jug at him.

I’m leaving.

I’m going to go home.

Vince screams as the jug makes contact with his chest, the liquid inside splashing up into his face as his finger squeezes the trigger. I don’t take a moment to check on him, or to see if I got shot. If I did, I certainly don’t feel it as adrenaline floods my veins. The familiar sound of an unyielding object impacting flesh filters past the ringing in my ears, a sickening, wet thud.

I hiccup, my eyes blurring with tears as I scramble for Vince’s gun, my hand stopping seconds before I would’ve maimed myself. Acid covers it and everything near him, and the jug glugs as he screeches, wildly wiping at his face, taking skin with it. If I were Lana, I might feel bad. I might even help him like he helped me that day, but I’m not Lana. Not yet.

I scramble to my feet, darting around the center rigging as a warm substance splashes my face. I scream, waiting for the agonizing burn, but it doesn’t come. When I finally stop wiping my face, my eyes drop to my bloody palms. The slopping sound of object versus flesh breaks me from my ill-timed panic. Christian is standing over Jax, his muscular form splattered in blood as he delivers another hit of Jax’s gun against his skull. Myeyes dart to the door, everything screaming to leave, leave before anyone else comes. The room is soundproof, but the video was live. Sooner than later, someonewillcome.

It’s Jax’s groan that stops me. “Lana,” he croaks, reaching out to me with a bloody, shaky hand, slumped a few feet from his brother.

Lana?

I’m not Lana.

I stare at him as he groans again, his face a misshapen garble of features. I don’t look away; I don’t run, even though the door is right there. My way out is right there, but I’m stuck, staring at Jax there on the floor. Christian jerks down Jax’s pants, smirking proudly as he flips him onto his stomach, jerking his ass in the air. My gut swirls, and I stay…enraptured as Jax whimpers. He fuckingwhimpers.

For Lana.

How many times did I whimper before I finally stopped?

My knees threaten to buckle underneath me, so I shift my weight again, feeling the tackiness between my legs, fresh blood from my ass mingling with coagulated.

Blood freckles Christian's handsome face, and he pants as he angles the gun, pressing it between Jax’s cheeks. Jax buckles and fights, but it’s weak, the sour smell of his vomit filling the room as he tries to drag himself away. “Lana!”

“I’m not Lana,” I whisper.

Christian turns towards me, keeping up with Jax’s very slow pace. Those mossy eyes bore into mine for so long, I forget to breathe. It isn’t until Christian tilts his head towards Jax before I realize he’s waiting for me. My throat goes dry, my bloody knees wobbling as I shake my head.

“Lana, hit the button!”

“I’m not Lana. I’m the cunt,” I whisper again.

Christian shrugs to himself. “We warned you to back off.”

Jax screams as Christian forces the barrel of the gun, slick with blood, into his ass. “The Vanegas family sends their regards.”

Jax lets out another bloodcurdling scream.

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