Page 52 of Enemy of the State

He came for me.

He doesn’t hesitate for a single moment before yanking the man to my right from my body by the back of the neck, slamminghim against the wall. In the time it takes me to blink, Digs has his Glock at the man’s temple and pulls the trigger, painting the grey concrete a beautiful shade of garnet.

I had it wrong.I had it so fucking wrong.

How could I have believed he’d have been in on this? After all, wouldn’t he have wanted to kill me himself?

My gut is always right, and I should have trusted her.I should have trustedhim.

He told me to trust him, and I didn’t. I’ve never been able to rely on anyone else before, but fuck it all, I think he may have just proven himself a worthy exception.

Something in my chest—in the fiber of my bones—yearns to be let loose, straining to reach for him.

For a moment, I let myself believe that he had lied. I suppose that was easier than admitting that I didn’t want him to be the one who hurt me. I wanted him by my side—outside of this place.

Maybe it’s the blood loss, but I want a future, one with him. I want to learn his favorite foods, and how he likes to spend his Saturdays, and how many times he’s watched his favorite movies.

Another tear coasts down my face, dripping into an open cut on my cheek, making it sting anew. I’m so weak: blood-loss, exhaustion, and fear threatening to drag me under their spell, but I force my eyes to remain open.

“You’ll never get away with this, Diggory,” the man behind me sputters as Digs hauls him away from me. The hazel-eyed fucker in front of me dashes toward the open door, but Honey Eyes suddenly appears, his golden eyes widening as he takes in the scene, before transforming into a blaze of indignation.

He snatches the masked man before he can make an escape, holding a knife to his jugular. Dragging him back inside the room,Honey Eyes slams the door behind him.

My attention shifts as Digs positions his Glock at the guard’s head.

“Wait,” I whisper hoarsely, my vow of retribution humming through my weakened veins.

Digs and Honey Eyes whip their heads toward me, their weapons poised to strike.

“Wh—which one is the medic?” I ask, my need for vengeance the only reason I’m able to get the words out.

“This one,” Digs supplies, turning the sod in my direction and shoving him to his knees.

“I want him,” I rasp.

Digs stares into my eyes for a long moment before taking in the vast extent of my injuries and softening his tone. “Let me be your hands, your wrath. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Barely able to speak, I know this is as close as I can get to revenge, so I order roughly, “Take off his mask. I want to watch him die.”

Digs rips the mask from the guard’s head, gripping him tightly by his shoulders. The guard’s face twists as he jerks against Digs’s hold, but there’s a slight quiver in his movements.Good, I hope he’s scared.

“Cut out his eyes. He saw things he shouldn’t.”

Digs’s gaze slams against mine, holding for a moment before he nods. He holsters his Glock and pulls the knife from its sheath before snapping the man’s head back and carving into his left eye like it’s a Christmas turkey. Gouging out his eye, he rips it from the socket, then repeats the process on the other side. The man’s blood-curdling screams are so loud that I smile, despite the effort and pain.

Sounds of the soldier’s agony lessen my own, the retribution nourishing my twisted soul as it loosens the iron grip that potent suffering and hatred had on my heart. I feel lighter with each cut Digs makes on my behalf.

“Remove his hands. He touched something without permission.” My voice is hoarse, body trembling from the inside out as I endeavor to regain my composure.

Digs glances at me for a beat as if seeing me for the first time, but he’s never seen my darkness glow like vivid, lustrous moonlight glittering across still water before. He’s never witnessed the violent brutality that I’m capable of inflicting. I’ve seen his darkness; now he’s seeing mine.

After only a beat of hesitation, he grips the guard’s hand and the man thrashes, desperately attempting to yank it away, but Digs punches him in the mouth and he rocks back.

My chest squeezes in delight, like someone is gently stroking the callous scales on my heart, soothing me.

Digs starts slicing through the man’s fingers, tossing each digit aside before cutting through the bones of his wrist. My feral smile grows, the joy of this man’s suffering numbing my own pain.

When he finishes removing both hands, I wonder if I can ask him to remove his fucking brain since he knew too much, but ultimately decide that might be taking things a bit far, so I settle on something a little more…palatable.

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