Page 116 of The Devil's Wrath

The man’s eyes widened in fear as he stared down the barrel of Kai’s gun. “W-wait! Please . . .” he stammered, holding up his hands in a futile gesture of surrender.

Kai’s finger tightened on the trigger, his eyes cold and merciless. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t paint the walls with your brains right now, Abel.”

Abel swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I-I can give you information! Names, locations, anything you want to know about the trafficking ring!”

Kai scoffed. “You really think that’s enough to save your pathetic life after what you did to Haven? To all those innocent girls?” Kai cocked the hammer of the gun, the click echoing through the room.

Abel flinched, a whimper escaping his lips. “Please . . . have mercy.”

“Mercy?” Kai laughed harshly. “Did you show mercy to Haven when you sold her like a piece of meat? Did you show mercy to any of those girls when you ripped them from their families and forced them into a life of hell?”

The man’s shoulders slumped in defeat, his head hanging low. “I’m sorry . . .” he whispered brokenly.

Kai pressed the muzzle of the gun against Abel’s forehead, his eyes blazing with fury. “Sorry doesn’t change a fucking thing. It doesn’t erase the scars you’ve left on Haven. But you know what will help?”

“Wh-what?” the man dared to ask.

“Your death.”

The gunshot rang out deafeningly loud in the confines of the room. Abel’s body crumpled to the ground, a neat hole in the center of his forehead, eyes still wide in shock. Blood and brain matter splattered on the wall behind him, a macabre Rorschach of crimson against the dingy concrete.

Kai lowered his gun slowly, his face an impassive mask even as a storm of emotions raged in his eyes. He turned to Atlas with a curt nod. “Have your men dispose of this trash. He doesn’t deserve a proper burial.” He spat on the body and walked away.

Justice, in its most primal form, had been served.

I’d watched the scene unfold through hazy, half-lidded eyes, my body and mind too numb to fully process the violence. The room seemed to spin, the edges of my vision blurring. Theo’s arms tightened around me, his warmth the only thing tethering me to consciousness.

Atlas signaled to his men, and they swiftly dragged the body away, leaving a smeared trail of crimson in their wake. Kai holstered his weapon and strode over to where Theo still cradled me against his chest. His eyes softened as he took in my battered state.

“Christ, Wren,” he murmured, crouching down beside us.

“Stay with me, baby,” Theo instructed, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’ve got you. Just hold on a little longer.”

I wanted to respond, to assure him that I was okay, but my tongue felt thick and heavy in my mouth. A coppery taste coated my throat, and I realized distantly that it was blood. My blood mixed with Igor’s.

The adrenaline that had kept me going, that had fueled my desperate fight against Igor, faded rapidly, leaving me drained and weak. The pain that had been held at bay by sheer willpower and survival instinct now crashed over me. Every breath felt like shards of glass in my lungs.

“Just stay with me, Wren. Keep those beautiful eyes open for me.”

But it was a losing battle. The welcoming embrace of unconsciousness beckoned, promising a respite from the all-consuming pain. My eyelids fluttered, growing heavier with each passing second.

Theo’s grip on me tightened as he began to move, his strides purposeful and urgent. I was dimly aware of the others falling in step around us, forming a protective circle as we navigated the blood-soaked hallways of this hellish place.

Snippets of conversation floated through the haze, enveloping my mind, disjointed and muffled, as if my head was submerged underwater.

“. . . traumatic injuries . . . significant blood loss . . .” Archer’s voice, usually so calm and collected, held an undercurrent of tension.

“. . . pregnant . . .” Theo said. “. . . need to move faster . . . losing her . . .” His words were clipped and panicked.

Their urgency penetrated the fog, and a flicker of fear pierced through my apathy. Was I dying? The thought drifted through mymind, detached and clinical. After everything I’d endured, was this how it would end? Bleeding out in the arms of the man I loved, my life slipping away in the very place that had stolen my soul?

No. I couldn’t let it end like this. I had fought too hard and survived too much to let that monster win, even in death. With a monumental effort, I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights.

Theo’s face swam into view above me, his features tight with worry. When he saw my eyes open, a flicker of hope ignited in his gaze. “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “Stay with me. We’re almost out of here.”

I tried to speak, to reassure him, but all that emerged was a weak, gurgling cough. The coppery taste intensified, and I felt something warm and wet trickle from the corner of my mouth.

Blood.

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