Page 67 of Hunted Obsession

Theron is running out of the Willow Club. He’s got one boy in his arms, three more behind him, and he’s covered in blood. Without thinking, without caring for my safety, I push the car door open and unfold before I run toward Vaughn and Theron.

I don’t know what to say when I arrive in front of him. Thankfully, he doesn’t give me the opportunity to speak. Instead, he thrusts the boy from his arms to mine. His gaze meets mine. It connects for a moment, and then he speaks.

“Take them to your car. Stay there. Lock the door. Go back to the condo if shit gets bad,” he barks.

Holding the little boy in my arms, I’m surprised at how absolutely still he is. The others are wide-eyed but don’t say a word. I do what Theron demands, although I have a million unasked and unanswered questions as I do it.

Once the boys are all settled in the back seat of my car, except for the one who clings to me, I keep him in my arms. Flicking my gaze to the rearview mirror, I watch them. The oldest can’t be more than ten.

What were they doing in that nightclub?

And why was Theron covered in blood? I have so many questions.

THERON

Leaving the boys with Lucille,I jog back into Willow Club. I’m not sure what I’m going to find. I know I didn’t kill everyone. I also don’t know what the fuck has happened in there within the few minutes I’ve been gone.

Running down the staircase, I stop when I make it into the room. Vaughn has three men held at gunpoint, plus Emmie and Charlie. Asher is sprawled out dead in a pool of his blood, along with Victor, who is much the same.

Fucking pieces of shit.

Gnashing my teeth together, I jerk my chin toward Vaughn. “Where are the rest?” I ask.

He turns to me, his eyes finding mine, and I expect him to look pissed, but he doesn’t. “Hale called us all the minute he saw you walk in here. This shit has stunk all fucking day long. The activity was way beyond normal, and he’s been on high fucking alert.”

Vaughn hasn’t answered my question. Thankfully, he isn’t finished talking because he continues and answers me when he does.

“Boden and Grayson were outside of the loading area. They took care of the truck driver, and that separated the men who got away from the boys. I wasn’t expecting this kind of bloodshed, though.”

I think about how to respond to that, mainly because it’s my fault that there is bloodshed to begin with. “You piece of shit,” Emmie shouts from her place on the floor.

Slowly, my gaze drifts down to her, and I arch my brow as I watch her for a long moment. “I’m a piece of shit?” I ask.

She lifts her chin, her gaze narrowing on me. There it is. The hate that fills her eyes is what I’ve always known was there. I take a step toward her and crouch down in front of her, making sure to be far enough away that she can’t actually touch me.

“I’m a piece of shit?” I ask again. “Explain. Why?”

Instead of saying a word, she spits at me, and it lands on the floor in front of me. I flick my gaze down to her saliva on the floor, then lift it back up and connect it to hers. “Cute,” I state. “You participate in selling boys to perverts, and I’m the piece of shit?”

Emmie snorts. “You think that anyone cares about them? They’re orphans, Theron. They will have a better life where they’re going than where they were, forgotten and ignored.”

The sheer amount of things wrong with her last statement is more than I can count on one hand. Tilting my head to the side, I watch her for a moment, wondering if she truly believes what she’s just said, and I can tell she does.

I lift my gun and press the barrel against her head. “I was one of those boys, you cunt. And I can tell you that never, not even once, did I think I was better off being abused by a grown-ass fucking man. Eat shit and die.”

I pull the trigger, watching as her brains are blown out of the back of her head. A woman’s shrill scream fills the room, and I look over my shoulder to see Lucille standing at the doorway, her hand covering her mouth, but it does nothing to muffle the sounds of her screams.

Then, I feel my body flying through the air. My breath is pushed out of my body before I feel hands wrap around my throat. Looking up, I see the man above me and almost laugh. It’s Charlie. This motherfucker thinks he’s going to end me. The thought is goddamn laughable.

Lifting my hips, I am able to throw him off guard and roll him onto his back. His eyes widen as soon as his head hits the concrete floor beneath him. He tries to continue choking me, but I’ve killed bigger men with less advantage before. He is fucking nothing.

Rearing my head back, I slam it forward against his forehead, hearing the back of his skull thump against the concrete floor again. Fucking brilliant. His grip loosens around my throat, and I slip my arms between us and push his hands away, then use my own to wrap around his throat.

Squeezing, using significantly more strength than Charlie could ever muster, even on his strongest day, I watch as the light begins to drain from his eyes. Straddling him for better leverage, I continue to squeeze.

When Charlie’s body stops squirming, then convulsing, only then do I stand up. Walking over to where my gun went flying, I pick it up and make my way back to his still body before emptying two bullets into his skull.

Vaughn clears his throat, jerking his chin toward the three men he’s still holding hostage. “Take care of that one,” he murmurs, jerking his head behind him toward Lucille. “I’ll get some answers over here.”

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