Page 53 of Soul Bound

My mind races with ideas. I know if we let them lead us out of here, we will either end up dead or in a facility similar to this one. Neither one of those options are acceptable to me. I know if we can somehow distract them, Ranger would be at enough of an advantage to take at least one of them down. But it would have to be one hell of a distraction.

And if I could just get to the knife in my boot…

Something ahead of us catches my attention. Thalia. She stands there, her face full of fury as she takes in the scene. Her eyes dart to the man holding the gun to my head and she sneers. Beside her, the redhead appears, looking equally pissed. A chill wind rushes through the small space as they stand there, flicking in and out of focus.

I slide my eyes to Ranger’s and find he’s already looking at me. He knows what’s coming—he’s been around enough ghosts lately to know what the drop in temperature means. The man behind me shoves me forward again when I slow up, taking advantage of this, I pretend to fall forward, allowing myself to fall to my hands and knees.

“Get up!” he yells at me.

I rise to a kneeling position and at the same time, the ghosts fly forward, their ethereal bodies moving like the wind as they come toward us. The frigid air blows over me as they pass. I watch as their ghostly shapes slam into the men. The one tasked with watching Ranger slams into the stone wall behind him. He grunts and flails around from the force.

“What the fuck was that?” he shouts as he tries to right himself.

I don’t have enough time to watch what happens next or what Ranger does because I have my own man to deal with.

At the force of Thalia crashing into him, he staggers back, dropping the gun to his side as he does. His dark eyes scan the space looking for the source of the impact. While he’s distracted, I slip the knife out of my boot and hold it firmly in my grasp.

I don’t have time to think about my actions or ponder if there is something else I can do.

I just act.

While he rights himself, I lunge forward. He barely has enough time to raise the gun and fire off a shot. At the same time, with an arching motion, I slice at him.

Thebangof the bullet exiting the gun is deafening, my ears instantly start ringing from being in such close proximity to it. I feel my cheek burn as the bullet grazes me, but the bite of pain doesn’t even register with me. It doesn’t even register with me I could have just died had I been an inch to the left when he shot. I don’t register the spray of blood that hits my face—some his and some mine. I feel it dribble down my lips and off my chin in hot droplets.

All I can do is look at him.

Because he missed. And I didn’t.

His hands that were holding the gun and flashlight let go, both things go clattering to the dirt ground. With one hand, he touches his neck before pulling it away to look at the blood that now coats his fingers. Realization flashes across his face as he tightly places his hand over the seeping wound on his neck. I don’t think it’s deep enough to be instantly fatal, but if he doesn’t stop the flow of blood, he will bleed out.

That doesn’t stop him.

With a strangled roar, he flies at me. The impact of his body slamming into mine and then the hard dirt floor knocks the wind out of me. It also forces me to drop my knife. He applies pressure to his neck as he crushes me to the floor. Using his free hand, he grips my throat. For the second time in just a couple of weeks, the air is being choked out of me. I struggle against his hold, but he’s so much bigger than me and his full weight is on me. I pull at his hand, digging my nails in as hard as possible. Blood from his neck wound drips down on my face and chest.

With my free hand, I search all around me for my knife.

I’m aware of the sound of distant fighting as Ranger takes on the other man. I can’t see them from under the large frame of the man I’m under. I can hear snarls coming from Ranger and the wailing coming from the man.

My fingers brush against the cool metal of my knife. It’s just barely out of my reach, and I have to strain to be able to wrap my fingers around the hilt. Once I have it in my hand, using the last bit of strength I have, I plunge it into his side. Once.Twice.

I hear him gasp above me and the hold he has on my throat loosens, allowing me to take a breath. The hand he’s been holding on his throat wound slips away, a steady stream of blood flows onto my chest and neck, soaking my shirt and jacket.

Everything around me slows as I watch him.

An array of emotions flicker across his face. First disbelief and pain. The next, a look of pure terror as realization sets in.

Of all the death I’ve dealt with, I’ve never actually witnessed someone die before. I’ve never seen the life fade from someone’s eyes before. I’ve never watched someone take their last breath like I am now.

I just killed a man.

All the strength leaves his body and he slumps forward. You know the word,deadweight? It’s true. The weight of his body was staggering before, but now that he’s completely limp, pressing me into the dirt, it’s suffocating. I try shoving him off of me, but he doesn’t move an inch.

I don’t like being trapped. I don’t like not being able to move. Pure desperation sets in as I push and shove at him desperately trying to shift his weight off of me, but he’s too big. A level of panic I haven’t felt in five years sets in and I start to hyperventilate. Hot, wet, tears run down my cheeks as I freak out.

I try to shift my legs, but they’re also crushed by his unwavering weight.

The distant sound of someone calling my name echoes through my head. It sounds like they’re talking underwater due to the rushing of blood in my ears.

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