Page 57 of The Beautiful Dead

My ruin. My resurrection. My inevitable destruction.

If these men thought they were the ones in control here—if they thought for one fucking second that they were the ones pulling the strings—they were about to learn just how wrong they were.

“DeMarco, sorry to keep you waiting,” a waif of a man said smugly, heading toward me, his men parting like the Red Sea. “You know how these things go. Business is busy.” He smirked, eyes raking over Remi with appreciation.

I snarled, pushing Remi behind me so he was obscured from view. “Valentin.”

His deep chuckle grated across my skin, and I bared my teeth. “I didn’t realize you kept pets, Domino.”

“I don’t.”

He snorted and winked. “If you say so.”

Valentin shifted, that smug half-smirk twisting his lips. He thought he was my equal.That was his first mistake. Remi stepped back, staying in my field of vision. His eyes laser-focused on Valentin, his features contorted, then smoothed out when he released a small puff of air.

“Something to say, pretty one?”

“You don’t fucking talk to him.”

My switchblade was in my hand before Valentin finished speaking. The sharp steel edge glinted in the headlight beams from the Los Espectros vehicles. Remi stayed eerily quiet, tilted his head to the side, assessing him through unblinking eyes.

“We have business to do, Valentin.” My voice was steady, cold. “If you’re seeking a willing hole, I recommend the services available at Nocturne. You’ll find whatever your heart desires between those walls. A thank-you for?—”

A bullet cut through the night like a whisper of death. I moved before Valentin’s man hit the dirt. One deadly shot. Precise. Efficient.

The next one came faster. Then another. A barrage of gunfire tore through the air, drowning out the thunder and cries of dying men. Los Espectros were dropping like flies, bodies crashing into the ground all around us. They weren’t the targets. They were collateral damage, target practice.

This was meant for me.

I dropped behind a rusted freight car, hauling Remi with me, and flicked the safety off my Glock. My mind shifted into pure calculation. No emotion. No hesitation. Only control.

Across from me, Valentin had ducked behind cover, his expression twisted into something between anger and amusement. He wasn’t running. Not yet. Stupid fuck. Maybe he’d earn his name and prove he was a man truly worthy of doing business with.

A Gallo soldier moved into my periphery—gun raised, finger tightening on the trigger. Crack. Crack. Two precise pulls. The impact sent his body jerking backward, lifeless, before he hit the mud.

Another crept toward us from the other side of the car. I acted without thinking, muscle memory and training taking over. Pivot. Aim. Fire. Control.

Gunfire flared from every direction, bullets slicing through the downpour, ricocheting off the metal husks of dead trains. Another scream. Another body hitting the ground. The wet slap of meat meeting broken concrete.

“Stay here.”

I grabbed Remi’s emotionless face between my thumb and forefinger, slamming my lips to his in a vicious kiss. A promise. A vow that I would come back for him.

Then I threw myself into the fray. I advanced my finger, depressing the trigger with lethal precision. This wasn’t chaos. This was art.

A second before I took my next shot, I saw it—the glint of metal from the rooftop of a car on the next train over. A sniper, good but not good enough to survive. I opened my mouth to call out, but I never got the chance.

“DOMINO!” Remi bellowed my name, sharp and desperate.

It was like time slowed down, and everything happened in slow motion. A force crashed into me, shoving me to the cold, wet ground. I landed on my hands and knees, my gun skittering across the ground from the force of the impact.

A solid weight crushed me from above, and heavy panting breaths were the only thing I could hear. A deep grunt rocked the body covering me, the sound of flesh tearing. A startled gasp. Blood splattered against my arm. Warm. Fresh. It soaked through the material of my clothes, staining my skin.

“Fuck,” I wheezed.

Remi hit the ground next to me, pain twisting his face, his shoulder torn open, blood pouring down his arm. The bullet meant for me had found him instead.

A faultline cracked through my skull, the edges fracturing, crumbling. Something inside me broke. Unleashed an unbridled fury.

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