Page 215 of Quinlan

Quinlan aims for Joseph’s least swollen eye. I’ll land one punch after the other to his chest. Until it stops beating. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll punch a hole through there. Damien and Liam have their hands on each of his ankles.

“Five,” Anne starts.

“Four,” Quinlan goes.

“Three.” It’s Damien.

“Two.” Liam furrows his brow, giving me a reassuring stare.

I return to direct my fist at my aim. “One.”

Bones break. Agonized screams bounce off the walls.

A couple offuck yeses.

A sonorous end to two miserable lives.

May they never rest in peace.

CHAPTER FORTY

Liam

We stand in mybedroom, the four of us. We haven’t spoken since we left Rome’s childhood home.

Well, haven’t talked about anything that matters. We’ve been moving through the motions, anxious to be home already.

We killed two people. Slayed two monsters.

Then we went back to acting like normal, non-murdering people. Dropped Anne off at her home, walked her into her apartment to make sure she’s okay. She looked fine. Composed. Nick is there for her, in case she was pretending. There to love her. To care for her. His mind isn’t littered with images and sounds of people taking their last agonized breaths.

Two monsters, I remind myself.We did good.

What are we doing here, again? I want to say something. Someone should say something.

“Liam?” Quinlan stares up at me in the dimly lit room. Her gray eyes are wide, pupils blown. High from the carnage. So am I. “Are you okay?”

This isn’t regret coursing through my body. Not blame.

Fuck that.

These were justified murders.

What I feel is power. The boost of adrenaline that started back in Rome’s childhood home won’t go away.

“Shirt. Off.” I don’t wait for Quinlan to remove the damn thing. My hands slap hers away, and I yank it up her body. Whip it off her. Toss it to the floor.

“Jeans. Now.”

Without much effort, Rome yanks Quinlan toward him by the back of the waistband of her jeans. She yelps, her eyes searching for Damien and mine. Neither of us is going to help against Rome. She wouldn’t want us to, either.

The feral look hasn’t left her gaze. That’s how I know she likes this. Needs this violence to take the edge off.

We all do.

Rome has his plans. He’s brought his sharpest knife up here. The knife that’s meant to cut meat. To go through bone, if he’s in the mood to do the butchering himself.

He could use a cleaver. He prefers this.

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