Page 54 of Séance

We would destroy her, and that’s one thing I don’t think I could live with. Knowing that she’s free and living in the world will have to be enough.

I don’t even realize I’m clenching my fists until the can in my hand crumples and beer spills between my fingers. Cursing,I toss the can away and shake the liquid from my hand. I turn toward the house, plotting different scenarios on how to get rid of her, when a piercing scream splits the air.

I’m not even aware of moving until I vault over the fence separating our yards. I sprint across the grass at full speed, cursing that I didn’t make sure the house was secure before she went to bed.

I land on her porch with a thud, a snarl curling my lips as I dash toward the door, ready to tackle whoever thought they could fucking touch her.

I don’t even question my protective instincts toward her.

Mrs. Killaghan asked me to watch over her, and I refuse to accept that it’s anything more.

Just when I pick up speed, ready to throw myself at the door, it’s thrown wide open. I skid to a halt, nearly plowing into the shadowy figure in the doorway, and come face-to-face with a tearful Rue. She hastily pulled on the jeans she wore this morning, the ones that cling to her every curve. Her camisole is half tucked into her pants, the spaghetti straps barely doing anything to contain her beautiful breasts.

Some people pick clothes to show off an average figure, turning a three into an eight. The opposite is true for Rue. While I might have thought her gorgeous when we first met, seeing her half naked now makes me realize that gorgeous is just too tame of a word to describe her beauty.

Rational thoughts go out the window. I don’t even hesitate to pull her against my chest, dragging her away from danger. Silky smooth skin meets my fingertips, nearly distracting me…until my fingers brush over tiny lines that crisscross over her back like braille.

Scars.

A muscle ticks along my jaw as I struggle to focus on the present danger and not demand she tell me who the fucktouched her so I can end them. I push her away slightly, not allowing myself to get distracted. “Are you okay? Is there someone in the house?”

The thought that someone would hurt her has rage flooding my veins, and I barely hold back the impulse to rush into the house, cursing myself for not grabbing my gun before hurrying over here. My chest heaves with the need for action, adrenaline flooding me, and I pull her closer again, absently noting how she fits so perfectly against me.

She’s small, just a slip of a girl in my arms, and I can’t get over the impression that no matter how tight I hold on to her, she’ll slip away.

Rue shakes her head, then shoves against my chest. I reluctantly release her, gritting my teeth against the need to toss her over my shoulder and take her somewhere safe. Not liking the turn of events, I grab her shoulders, suddenly worried she might run.

“What’s wrong?” I scan her teary face, and the fleeting suspicion that she’s faking this to gain attention vanishes.

“Where’s Gunner?” She clutches my arms, and I barely stop myself from recoiling from her question. I clench my jaw, my molars grinding, and my grip on her shoulders tightens until I know she’s going to be marked with bruises tomorrow.

“Why do you want Gunner?” I ask, my suspicions returning full force. Gunner has a weakness for damsels in distress. If she thinks she’s going to work her way into our lives by using him, then she has another thing coming.

My thought shatters with her next words.

“He’s in trouble.” Her expression hardens, and she reaches up, swiping at the tear tracks on her face. “If we hurry, we might be able to save him.”

I consider that she might be lying, but I can’t risk it.

“Come on.” I don’t wait for her answer, just grab her wrist and drag her down the steps at a dead run. To my surprise, Rue doesn’t hesitate to follow, easily keeping pace. We head straight for my garage. In less than a minute, we’re in my car and speeding down the road with a squeal of tires.

Traffic is sparse after midnight, and I don’t hesitate to step on the gas, easily weaving in and out of the few cars on the road. The engine roars as if sensing my need for speed, and I tighten my grip on the wheel. A glance shows Rue twisting her fingers so much that they are stark white.

“Did he call you?” I ask, my voice harsh in the silence as my anxiety gets the best of me.

She stiffens, resolutely looking out the front window, before muttering so low that I barely catch her words. “Something like that.” When she turns to look at me, her teal eyes are bright in the darkness, almost seeming to shimmer. “Can’t you go faster?”

Since we’re already going over a hundred miles an hour, my eyebrows inch up in surprise. Most girls squeal and grab onto me when I do something reckless.

Not Rue.

If anything, she’s scowling at me for not going fast enough.

Her sense of urgency is contagious, and I can’t stop myself from pressing the pedal of my BMW M5 harder, until it’s flat on the floor. The metal beast leaps forward, eager to do as I command, and I watch the speedometer go into the red as it nears two hundred miles an hour. I tighten my hands around the steering wheel and concentrate on keeping us on the road.

Jaceson insisted that we each learn to drive defensively and taught us how to control a car, and I silently thank him for his forethought. Trees whip past as we head toward the abandoned quarry. A few years ago, an illegal fight ring took over the area. Since it keeps crime down, law enforcement more or less looks the other way.

Gunner usually attends a match every few weeks, but I’ve noticed the bruises on him more and more and the stiff way he moves, and I mentally curse myself for not stepping in sooner. For people like us, the crack of knuckles against flesh is addicting, the need for blood and vengeance built into our DNA.

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