Page 103 of Entombed In Sin

Before I can respond, the line goes dead.

I stop in my tracks to stare at my phone in surprise. That motherfucker… How dare he downplay my importance? I’m a legend?—

“Lost, Angels Eyes?”

My body stiffens. The voice came from somewhere in the shadows of the dark and deserted gas station I’m about to pass.

The gas station infrontof me.

Shit.

I’m five blocks away from my safehouse —it’s the ideal distance in case Shannon and I needed to run and lay low. The place isn’t too far that it couldn’t be reached by foot, but just far enough away if the police ever did a sweep around the perimeter of my house, they wouldn’t extend it this far. I never expectedthe reason I would need it would be because of two fucking assholes like the Hunt twins.

“How bold of you to come after me after what you’ve done to my wife. Are you stupid?” I ask, turning to face the building. I don’t see any movement, or any darker shadows, but I know there’s a Hunt there somewhere. “Eager for your death?”

There’s no answer. No taunts, no wicked chuckle. Just the sound of silence greets me. Mentally, I take inventory of my wounds and how I feel. There’s pain for sure and my right hand is useless. But, rolling my shoulders and pushing through the fiery agony that comes with the motion, I know I can take them both. I was created to be unstoppable.

Something I’ve learned during my time on this earth is that people are normally ruled by their emotions. Fear causes paralysis, panic can instill irrationality, and fury can cause impulsivity and recklessness. I just need to find the right strings to tug, and these two will be putty in my hands.

“Did you enjoy my gift?” I ask the shadows. “Your twink had such nice eyes. I thought you’d want a memento.”

Tearing my gaze from the edges of the building, I look around where the empty gas pumps sit. There’s no movement there either. Shifting direction, I shoot the closed Thai restaurant a suspicious glance. Am I mistaken? Did the voice come from over there? Time ticks by, but I get no response. I try again, a smile pulling the corners of my mouth upward.

“I have another gift, though it’s more for me than you. Do you want to know where I’ve hid it?” I call out as I start moving again. “Your stepsister is carrying it in her womb.”

Ifshe’s pregnant—though I’m skeptical about that, given I only possessed her for a few days—then I’ll be back for the child. It’s mine. It belongs to me and Shannon.

Headlights flash down the street. I grin, knowing that as I walk toward the sidewalk, the Hunt twins won’t strike. Notwith a potential witness around. My eyes continue to scan the darkness. I can feel eyes on me—tracking me. Why aren’t they responding? Are they trying to catch me by surprise? That won’t happen. I can see in every direction right now. Plus, that car is still coming. Its headlights cast me in a pool of light.

Just to make sure I’m unreachable, I step out into the street—keeping to the opposite side of the road so I don’t get hit.

“She felt good wrapped around my cock, you know. Nothing like my sweet Shannon, but her pussy was good enough that cumming wasn’t all that hard,” I continue to taunt. “Do you want to know how many times I came in that cunt? Filled up that womb?”

I don’t particularly care for this type of talk about women. It’s not right. They don’t deserve the disrespect. I’m all about equality. That’s why I killed men and women alike. One wasn’t better than the other. But I know if someone talked about Shannon this way, it would get under my skin.

“Somany times,” I call loudly. My pace quickens as I continue toward my safehouse. Once inside, I’ll have my tools and a space I know well. If they want to come after me on my own turf while I’m settled inside, they have a death wish.

Not that I haven’t already marked them as dead.

Creeping and killing on my territory. Killing my dear, sweet Shannon. Then daring to attempt to kill me. There are so many indiscretions I can’t let slide. I should never have let them move freely in my city for so long. That was my mistake. Curiosity and a little boredom have bit me in the ass. Next time, I won’t hesitate to put a stop to any threats that roll into town.

“Don’t like my surprise?” I shout before chuckling. “Shame. I’ll take it back from you when Beatrix is done cooking it up. Maybe I’ll take her with me then as well. You know, now that I’m a fuckingwidower.”

The word is bitter and heavy on my tongue. My throat tightens as devastation threatens to consume me. Swallowing down the unbridled agony that comes with this fresh loss, I open my mouth to speak again.

“Angel Eyes.” A voice says, far too close for comfort.

I whip around to search for the owner of it. Drenched in the bright headlights of the car heading my way, the rest of the world is too dark for me to make out much of anything. Just as my eyes land on an outline of someone standing on the sidewalk across the street, a wall of metal hits me from the side.

There’s no pain. Not right away. Not when I’m struck or when my body finally hits the ground after soaring a few feet in the air. But when the pain does arrive, I’m surprised by it. I’ve never felt anything likethisbefore. It’s electrifying and breathtaking, red hot and bewildering in its intensity.

When I gasp for air, the motion is full of anguish. My head spins as I try to get my bearings. The cool ground beneath my cheek is no comfort as the pain rattles through me. I blink the thick liquid leaking into my eyes away. What’s this?Moreblood? I’m going to bleed out if I don’t get to my safehouse and stitch myself back up. Bracing my palms against the concrete, I try to push up. The motion nearly has me blacking out. How can one person hurt this much? Instead of immediately trying to attempt getting to my feet again, I roll onto my back.

I expect to see the sky overhead. Not a pair of eyes—one green and one brown.

Instantly, I know this is Sagan.

The Hunt twin peers down at me. The dark hair that dangles in his face parts just enough for me to see his expression. I would’ve thought there would be some sign of delight or even fury. But there’s no sign of any emotion whatsoever staring back at me. Sagan’s expressionless features are hard as stone, and his eyes… There’s nothing behind them. It’s just an eerie void.

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