Page 76 of Sorrow

It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

The fucking Sons are here.

My heart thunders loudly in my ears as the truth sets in. This isn’t a game anymore, not some silly little phone tag or something I’m hearing about peripherally. They brought the fight to us, and right now, I’m all alone.

“Her fucking truck is here, dumbass. Meansshehas to be here. Spread out and fucking find her, but bring her to me. That little bitch is mine.”

Carter. I recognize his voice from the message he left me — the message that had Hayes on the phone with Boo immediately.

I’m too frozen to scream.

I wanted to know how this would end... it ends now.

Right here.

Bolting through the living room to the bedroom, I snatch the butcher knife from the set Hayes left on the nightstand. He swore to me it was meant for fear play and not actual blood play, but tonight, I think I’m going to change that.

There’s no fucking way I let these assholes win.

“You can run...” Carter sing-songs from the hallway. “But good luck trying to hide. You’re outnumbered, cursed girl.”

Who, me? Run and hide? Not anymore. Gripping the handle as tightly as I can, I try to listen for footsteps and hear none. If I survive this, I’m taking a baseball bat to that goddamn radio. Sound won’t help me now.

The moment I see a shadow cresting the far side of the door jamb, I move, rounding the corner and swinging the knife as hard as I can. I catch a glimpse of wild red hair a second before blood spurts all over me, covering my face, my eyes, my chest. Carter’s scream turns into a gurgle as I try to clear my vision, and when I open my eyes again, he’s on the ground against the wall holding his neck.

The sight makes me violently nauseous, so I spit on him. “I may be outnumbered, but you’re out-fucking-matched. Choke on it, dick.”

Pure fury and adrenaline course through me until I feel almost invincible. Watching him gasp and claw at his torn throat only makes me hate him even more — this man who threatened me, hurt my brother, burned my house down. Having his throat slit when he didn’t see it coming is too easy for him.

The impact of my bare foot against his face sends a bolt of pain clear up my leg, but I don’t have time to coddle myself. There are two others in this house and they obviously didn’t come for the leftovers I just heated up. They came to finish what they started.

Moving away from Carter’s now limp body, I inch back toward the living room and scramble to find a bloodless piece of clothing to wipe the handle of the knife off. It’s slippery as hell, and I barely get it dried and back into my hand before Ricky tackles me to the ground.

His low, gravelly voice speaks straight into my ear, just audible over the pounding of my own heart and the music from the garage. “I would’ve made it quick, you know. But now? Now I think I’ll have a little fun.”

Pain sears and spreads through my cheek as he backhands me, stunning me. One of his meaty legs pins my arm down and makes the muscle spasm until I drop the knife, and I realize this is it. I’m about to die. And Ricky fucking Madoff of all people is going to do it.

Carter’s blood drips off my cheek into my mouth, making me gag. “Fuck you,” I grunt, squirming to no avail. “If you think you’ll live long after you kill me, you’re fucking wrong. And whatever sick things you’re about to do to me will pale in comparison to what Hayes will do to you when he finds you. So go ahead. Do your fucking worst.”

“Oh, I will. And then I’ll kill him too.”

His hands close around my throat, but as he leans forward to apply more pressure, he frees my arms. Spots burst in my vision as the instinct to survive supersedes everything else. I grab the blade and stab him in the side, using all the strength and body weight I have to throw him sideways. The knife is too wide to have gone in far enough to kill, but he’s bleeding. Maybe I hit something important. I take off toward the kitchen to put some space between us and scream at the top of my lungs, hoping Hayes hears me — but the damage that prick did to mythroat cuts it off too quickly, making me choke. I don’t think I can do this alone, especially since I have no idea where Holt is and Ricky almost certainly isn’t dead.

Scrambling, I grab a smaller, more manageable knife from the block on the counter and try to stay on my feet as I head back to the hallway, chasing certain death. Ricky’s crawling toward Carter and leaving a blood trail in his wake while Holt — all hunched shoulders and jet black hair, the spitting image of his fuckwit little brother — is almost at the garage door.

Hayes didn’t hear it when I opened the door. He won’t hear it now.

Running as fast as I can, I leap over Ricky and Carter just for Ricky to grab my fucking leg. I faceplant against the floor, dropping the knife, but Holt is too close. He’s mere feet away now. Kicking back as hard as I can, I free myself from Ricky and get back up, reaching Holt just as he reaches for the door handle. With no weapon, I leap onto his back and wrap my legs around him.

“Hayes!” I scream, digging my fingers into Holt’s eyes. “Hayes, help!”

Nothing answers me but the cry of the man under me. I dig harder, jerking when I feel my fingers slip into his sockets. Holtdesperately tries to buck me off, tearing my shirt and slamming me back against the wall. My head swims from the collision, but I don’t let up until he’s dropping to his knees and I scramble back for the knife. I can’t think of anything but surviving. Rushing forward, I drive the knife into Holt’s neck and twist it, pulling it out just to stab him again and again until I’m sobbing over his body.

Every part of me is shaking, but there’s still one left.

Turning with what little energy I have, I see Ricky at the end of the hall — but what I’m seeing doesn’t make sense. There’s someone behind him, holding him up by his hair. I wipe the blood and tears from my eyes as I move closer and see Hayes looking more dangerous than I’ve ever seen him.

“I’m sorry!” Ricky screams. “It wasn’t my idea, I swear! Just please let me go!”

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