Page 80 of Revenant

Jace winces, then sticks a finger in his ear and wiggles it. He scowls down at the bitch’s body sprawled haphazardly on the bed, a snarl of disgust twisting his face. If I listen carefully, I can almost hear her high-pitched yapping. Now that I know it’s ghosts and not just voices in my head, it’s a lot easier to ignore them.

I’ve had enough practice.

I’ve been doing it most of my life.

I bounce on my feet, anxious to head out.

Pookie is waiting for me.

I can sense it.

“We don’t need either of them,” rasps the teenager who resembles a zombie a little too much for my comfort. He’s one ofthe goons who hangs out with the chick at our table—Dickson or Dawson or some shit. I stalk toward him, his too thin frame so lanky, it looks like a skeleton wrapped in flesh.

“You promise on your life?” I demand, not bothering to mask my threat as I stare, unblinking, into his muted green eyes.

The kid has balls of steel. Instead of cowering, he shuffles to his full height and meets my gaze. Though his throat bobs once, he doesn’t back down, and I recognize the combination of madness and despair in his eyes all too easily. “Yeah, Brad and I met in his private facility. It’s where he stored us before he received funds to create his underground bunker.”

My gaze snaps to the older dude, and I narrow my eyes on the fucker for not volunteering the information sooner…then nearly rear back when my gaze meets eyes that are pits of pure darkness. Whatever bad shit he witnessed scarred his soul black, and I barely hold back a shudder. If pookie hadn’t saved me, that would’ve been my fate.

“He can’t speak.” The dark twin answers my challenge, planting herself protectively in front of him. She crosses her arms and glares up at me defiantly, daring me to touch her man.

I tilt my head as I peer down at her, noting how both men tense. Her mutinous expression is so similar to my pookie that I blink in surprise and back off. “Make sure your men treat you right, or you come to me, okay?”

She blinks a little owlishly, her mouth sagging open. Done with the conversation, I turn on my heel and march out the door. “Let’s head out! Pookie is waiting.”

The girl sputters, squawking in protest, but her sister just chuckles. I almost make it out the door when the ghost following us throws a tantrum about leaving her body. Jace clutches his head at her tirade, staggering to stay on his feet, and a trickle of blood leaks from his nose. If I squint, I swear I can almost see the bitch screaming into his ear.

I march back into the room, tempted to snap her scrawny fucking neck, but I won’t risk that she will never leave us alone again. Instead, I snatch her off the bed and throw her over my shoulder, grimacing at being forced to touch the disgusting skank.

She tried to hurt my pookie… She is lucky to still be alive.

Once the bitch is put back into her body, all bets are off.

I march out the door, and if her head thumped against the doorjamb… Oops, my bad. I smirk evilly, my steps not slowing as I stride down the hallway. When the others don’t move fast enough, I yell over my shoulder, “Let’s go. Pookie is waiting.”

The guys follow me without pause. The twinsie girls are seconds behind them. Gordan’s terrified scream echoes down the hallway, followed by a gurgle. None of us flinch at the slurping sound or the ominous silence that follows.

None of us have stones to throw.

More than once, we’ve come home covered in blood.

In our world, we don’t hesitate if a man needs killing.

It’s either them or us.

The two boy toys step into the hallway last, each wiping blood from their mouths, and I mentally shrug and brush it off. Who am I to judge how they kill? More than once, I’ve cut off a man’s balls for brutally raping a young girl or gutted another who liked to hit his girlfriend.

It’s kind of cool that they can eat the body and get rid of the evidence.

The kid avoids anyone’s gaze, as if ashamed, while the older man meets our stare with a silent challenge. When none of us even blink, the tense set of his shoulders relaxes.

I whirl around a corner, smirking when the bitch’s head hits the wall with a nasty thump, leaving a dent in the drywall. I practically skip down the hallway, whistling a merry tune at thethought of collecting pookie and leaving this place once and for all.

Chapter Thirty

HICKS

When we reach the elevator, I press the button on the wall, but nothing happens. I’m not surprised Hershamn disabled the thing. It’s smart, something I would’ve done, and I scowl in annoyance at the delay it will cause.

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