Page 12 of The Huntress

“Regardless, he could’ve killed me. I wouldn’t have put up much of a fight.”

At those words, Callie scowled. Yes, they were both petite, but she liked to think she had a core of steel running through her. Val even more so, having endured chemo after chemo.

“Did you see the size of his hands?” she said, running a trembling hand through her red spikes. “No matter how much I struggle, he’d snap my neck like a twig.”

Okay, so Val wouldn’t have let the suckblood kill her to end her lot in life. That had been Callie’s biggest fear—suicide. She bit her bottom lip to still the sorrow pressing on her control. It threatened to erupt on a constant basis, but she couldn’t release it. She needed to be strong for Val.

“A wasted evening,” Callie murmured, shaking her head.

She’d have to go in and explain to her captain what the hell happened. Despite being an ox, Barrows had her back. She liked that about him. At least her captain wouldn’t be in the dark, for the most part. She only had to mention suckblood royalty, a silver canister, a dunk in the river, and voila, they’d assign her to a psychiatrist for her overactive imagination. Of course, trying to keep Barrows alive meant he hadn’t witnessed the action firsthand.

“Not really. He was nice eye candy.” Val giggled, and the sound surprised Callie enough to draw her attention.

“You know they use pheromones, right?” She blessed Val with a huge smile. Warmth burrowed into her chest at her sister’s good humor.

“Sure. Doesn’t mean we can’t look. After all, it would be a waste of good pheromones if we didn’t at leastenjoytheir efforts.”

The smile dimpling Val’s cheeks made Callie’s heart ache. She rubbed at it, wishing for a time when the cancer hadn’t hung over their heads like a death knell.

“Going into the office, dear?” Val asked as she tugged her blankets up and under her chin.

“I have to. Captain will want a full report.”

“Good. Pick up a pizza on the way back with loads and loads of raw onions.”

The fact her sister suffered from strange cravings wasn’t unusual for someone in her condition. Currently it was raw onions, and by the tub load.

Callie slipped back into Val’s bedroom to don the spare uniform she kept there. “I’ll order in for you. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Suits me. Just eat something. You’re looking skinnier than me, and that’s saying a lot.”

Val’s observation had Callie nodding. She needed something else to focus on than the nausea roiling within her.

Callie jerked to meet her sister’s green-eyed gaze. “I get enough food—Mike makes sure of it. So don’t worry about me. You focus on you.”

She blew her a kiss and beat a hasty retreat, not willing to let Val see the tears forming on her eyelashes. What Callie wanted to do was to trap her sister within her embrace as if doing so would hold off death’s impending march.

She leaned against the closed apartment door, clasping her hand across her mouth, and stifled a sob. Searing pain lanced through her, crippling her. With her knees buckling, she slid down the door to land on her backside as something squeezed her chest, crushing her heart, threatening her ability to breathe. Tears bathed her face, dripping onto her fresh uniform. The pain, the helplessness, was at such an intensity it paralyzed her.

“Callie?”

Mike’s voice through the speaker on her watch jolted her, and she sucked in a much-needed breath. Wiping the tears from her cheeks with rushed movements, she released her breath in one shuddering exhale before answering.

“What is it, Mike?” She held her smartwatch close to her lips in the hopes he’d hear her clearly and make this call a short one.

“Captain’s up-to-date, and if you walk into the precinct before our next shift, I will take you over my knee, young lady.”

Callie forced a chuckle as her chaotic emotions pulled her apart.

“Got it,” she said. With a sigh, she followed it with, “I love you, just saying.”

“Holy cow, it’s worse than I thought,” Mike said after a small, significant pause. “Love you too, my girl. Now off to bed with you.”

She climbed to her feet, using the wall to pull herself up. She drew in another breath, pressed her palm to Val’s door, dipped her head and sent up a silent prayer. She stepped away, trailing her fingertips down the door’s smooth surface as if she was reluctant to leave it in God’s hands. Dropping her hand to her side, she turned and squelched down the corridor, heading home.

Chapter Seven

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