Page 81 of Dirty Behavior

Dropping to my knees, I smacked his face and cradled his head. “Ses? Sesto?” My voice was still soft, but firm. He was breathing, which was a good sign, he wasn't dead.

As I sat on my knees, my head began to pound, my muscles convulsing in pure rage. This isn't how it's supposed to go, we were supposed to do this together. Searching the darkness, I tried to spot the hidden figure that had done this.

But nothing was moving, there were no deep inhales or shuffle of light feet. We were still alone, or at least it looked that way.

I knew we weren't, someone had done this. Someone had slipped in behind us, quiet as a stalking lioness, and struck. They just made the biggest mistake of their life. The grim reaper would be knocking down their door soon, and I was going to be the one calling him in.

A loud scream cut through my ears, hardening my heart. Her voice was shrill, screeching with such fear, I stopped breathing altogether.

Ivy?

Fuck, is that Ivy?

I didn't even have to think about what I needed to do. If Sesto wasn't unconscious, he'd be yelling at me to go and finish this. He wouldn't want me curled over his body, snuggling his head.

Jumping to my feet, I started to run in the direction of the scream. My whole body was shaking, the veins under my skin engorged and fighting to keep me moving.

If he hurt her. . .

If he lays so much as a fucking finger on her. . .

I'll kill him so slowly, he'll beg me for death.

The only sounds around me were my feet hitting the floor. I ran and I ran, taking corners without even worrying about what was behind them.

I didn't care. Tearing the gun off my side, I held it up and kept going.

The scream came again, louder and filled with pain. I had never run so fast in my life. The blood was pumping through my veins like liquid metal. All I had to hear was Ivy's call of distress, that was it. An extra boost of adrenaline flooded my muscles, turning me from a gazelle into a cheetah.

I was on the hunt for blood.

Taking a hard left, my feet tried to skip out from under me, but I held on. The gun was ready to fire, my finger eagerly dancing over the trigger. I wasn't going to wait, I wasn't going to give him an ultimatum.

Remo was about to die.

I heard her voice, a gentle begging of life and fierce defiance of hate. Ivy was trying to get away, she was trying to live.

The light seemed to brighten, skimming the dust and making it pop in the air. I felt like I was running through a sea of plankton, the tiny particles filled my lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

I could see someone, a dark figure against a wall.

Holding out the gun, I aimed, my finger curled over the trigger. . .

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