Page 2 of Cruel Lies

I would only have to live with it for a few more seconds.

"Ro, please," I whispered, quiet enough for only the two of us to hear it. "You don’t have to do this." I wanted topush at him, wanted to fight this, wanted to escape him and run, save myself—something. But my body wouldn’t respond to my commands. Whatever they’d knocked me out with, it still flowed through my veins, disabling me, making my body useless to me.

"I’m sorry," he whispered back, his voice cracking, fresh tears welling in the corner of his eye. "I really am. But I’ve got no choice, Harper."

"I know," I muttered, feeling my mind slowly start to clear, my lips forming more coherent sentences. "Hell will never be good enough for you, Rowan Blackwood. But when you finally die, I’ll see you there."

A faint smile appeared on his face at those words, something sick and perverted, twisted, almost. A crack in his flawless veneer appeared, and I saw the monster he could be, lurking beneath the surface. "I hope that’s a promise, sweetheart," he rasped, and then the blade pressed against my throat, digging into my skin. Rain began to fall, pelting us both as the others ducked beneath the remnants of a nearby bus stop overhang.

Time slowed down, dragging on like the most reluctant of participants. My hair slowly plastered against my skin, chilling me to the bone every time the wind blew past us. Rowan’s thick mane sagged against his head, clinging to his forehead in messy curls. The blade pressed closer, a drop of blood welling up in the hollow of my throat, trailing down to where his tears had fallen earlier.

This was it. The end. All he had to do was drag that blade across my throat, and they’d go on with their perfect little lives. As that blade scraped to the side, a single thought ran through my head?—

You’re going to have to press harder if you want to kill me.

And then, the blade was yanked from my neck as Ro spun us so his back was to his brothers and dug the blade into his own forearm, slashing it across my throat. My hands finally reacted as I reached up to stop the bleeding from my neck, minusculethough it was, and with a grunt, Ro shoved me from the bridge and into the weightlessness of a free fall.

They say falling is timeless. Though the fall itself takes only seconds, it feels like an eternity. Your mind tricks you into a state of slow motion, taking in everything at normal speed and processing it at a fraction of what it should.

By the time I hit the water, my brain was still imagining how it’d feel when we hit bottom. The water rushed up around me, and I didn’t even have time to suck in a breath before I was swallowing liquid down whole, filling my lungs with frigidness.

I couldn’t scream, but I tried anyhow, only serving to waste what little air I had left. The soundless wail of fear and desperation tore at me, burning my lungs. Darkness crept up around me, spots in my vision closing in like hungry wolves on a tired rabbit. If I closed my eyes, if I just stopped fighting, it would all be over soon. The crocs would smell my blood in the water and come take care of the evidence. I would be gone before their teeth sank into me on the first bite.

I closed my eyes, refusing to greet death with them open, and stopped flailing, stopped fighting.

The last thing I saw as I drifted into sweet oblivion was the look on Ro’s face as I reached up and mapped his features out with my fingers.

Sorrow. Regret.

Sadness.

Love.

ONE

NASH

"They’re always somuch fun when they run."

Rowan shook his head at me as Angel and I took off chasing the fat-pig-motherfucker down this musty ass alleyway behind the target’s favorite gambling joint. We were neck and neck, racing as we often did to liven things up. The temptation to reach out and trip him so I could win was strong, but I fought back that particular urge, basking in the rush of adrenaline and the steady beat of my heart as it forced more blood through my veins. A small part of me wondered what Tanner’s body was doing for him during this chase. Was it double-timing work to help prolong his imminent demise?

Might as well just shut down on him. Save him a lot of fucking pain, honestly.

We turned the corner he disappeared around seconds before, and I reached out an arm, my fingers brushing against the thin, cheap fabric of his shirt.

Thatgot his attention.

Tanner McClure turned his head to see how close we were, and you could see the immediate realization in his eyes. The awareness that outrunning us was impossible. That he was going to die eventually. Either we’d catch him, or his cholesterol-clogged heart would give out.

The latter would almost be a mercy. If we caught him, things would be messy, painful, and drawn out.

"Fuck, fuck,fucking fuck,"he wheezed, damn near managing to trip over his own feet when he tried to jump over an obstacle instead of going around it. "Please,please, let me go,fuck!"

Angel was taller than me by a head, and his wingspan was equally as impressive. With a grunt and a grin, he shoved off his next step with all the grace of a fucking crane taking flight, and tackled the fucker with a well-placed death roll that any gator would be proud of.

"Dammit, you beat me again!" I gasped, doubling over to catch my breath as Angel wrestled the squirming man on the ground. "Fucking not fair, those legs of yours. Fucking ostrich-ass motherfucker."

Angel wasn’t listening to me ramble breathlessly. No, he was too busy with his hands around ole’ boy’s throat to pay me any mind. Which was a shame, really. My insults were top-tier.

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