Page 163 of Sinning for Santa

Twigs snapping off to the side draw our attention to Lenny, who’s carrying a slightly battered Melissa cradled to his chest.

“You fucking bitch! My brother died because of you!” the man bellows at Melissa, who is sobbing quietly in Lenny’s arms.

“Wrong.” Devon steps forward, lowering to his haunches so the man can see him better. “Fit Nick got what he deserved, Vincent.”

At the use of his name, the man, Vincent, flinches.

“You really think we weren’t going to find out who you really were?” Devon chuckles, although there’s no humour to it. “Vinny, Vinny, Vinny. Have you forgotten who I am?”

Leaning closer, Devon gets in his face.

“I’m the fucking devil.”

Vincent tries to lurch forward, but Devon’s men hold him in place before Devon’s fist shoots out, punching him in the nose.

“That was for strapping a fucking bomb to my girl!”

For a second I can’t breathe.

It could be because he called me his girl.

It could be from the change in his voice, the beast lurking beneath the surface, ready to snap.

Or it could be both.

It doesn’t matter, because neither of them scare me.

Nope.

They make me want to run to him.

I don’t, of course, staying rooted on the spot as Devon stands and turns to Frankie.

“No one else. Just him. The moment you threaten anyone else here, you’ll have a bullet between your eyes. Got it?”

She nods, her eyes flaring with excitement, and Devon turns back to Miles. “Hold him still for her.”

“No,” Frankie protests. “Let him go. It’s better when they run.”

I’m not sure why, or what sort of person this makes me, but I’m in awe of Frankie’s courage right now.

Yes, I know she’s not exactly sane, but there’s a power behind her craziness that I know. I’ve experienced it before when I was ten.

At Sunday school.

When I slaughtered Brother Eric.

Slowly, Devon nods, giving his men the all clear to release Vincent, and the moment they step away, he tries to run.

He makes it three steps before Frankie takes off after him, and only six before her war cry rips through the air as she dives, leaping on his back, the glint of the blade high before she plunges it between his shoulder blades.

He crashes to the ground, and Frankie swings the knife over and over as we watch on, listening to Vincent’s pleas for help, before they turn to gurgles.

Devon wraps his arms around me from behind, his deep rasp against my ear as we watch. “You okay with this? You don’t have to watch.”

I nod, wrapping my arms over his, holding him as he holds me, watching the most brutally monstrous scene unfold before our eyes.

Frankie, in her frenzy, rolls Vincent to his back, forcing him to look in her eyes as his body fights to live.

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