Page 62 of Ethereally Redeemed

“Move it!” The officer shoves me forward until I’m nearly stumbling, growling at him as I step over roots and rocks to the car parked outside the yard.

He’s a burly man, with a thick mustache perched above his lips in a permanent scowl. His expression and the hard glint in his eyes scream for people to stay away; to not spare him a second glance. I don’t. Instead, I look at the officer walking diagonally from me. His head is shaved clean, and tattoos slither from under his uniform to his neck—so unlike the standards of other officers. He elbows the man beside him, whose muscles are just as pronounced despite the fabric straining to contain them; shoulder blades so sharply defined they seem like they could cut through ice.

He keeps his voice low-key. “Hey, wasn’t there another girl here?”

The man looks around the area, eyes sweeping the empty yard. “Who cares?” he grumbles. “We need to move quickly, secure the suspect, and get him back for questioning. The press will be all over this.” He mutters the words under his breath, seemingly more for himself than anyone else.

The officer beside me—who has been pushing me along—shouts, “Hey, Hal, you think we’ll get a raise after this?”

But the tattooed officer ignores him, focusing elsewhere.

I restrain myself from looking backward, desperate to see my little doll one the last time. Killing Emilio Ricci was a mistake that I’ll never be able to undo. So stupid, thinking we could get away with it in the middle of nowhere.

You’re an idiot, Grey. You’ll deserve it if you’re put in prison, or worse; back at Dankworth Institute again.

I want to physically beat myself up for the stupid fucking mistake I made. Regret lingers in every corner of my soul, pushing and tearing until it’s all I can feel. I don’t regret killing the worthless human, but hell, if it wasn’t bad timing.

I initially groan, my steps faltering, but the officer shoves me forward until my toe catches on a root sticking up. A radiating heat shoots through my foot.

“Fucking watch it,” I snap, mimicking his earlier tone.

In response, he pinches my arm with a harder force than necessary, sending another wave of pain rippling through me.

We continue walking for what feels like forever. In fact, it’s so far away that it’s no wonder we didn’t hear them coming. The other two officers lead the way, their footsteps crunching on the forest floor. As we approach, their police car emerges from the darkening light. The sun dips just beyond the horizon, leaving only the faint glow of twilight. Soon, the moon will rise, filtering its light over the eerie forest.

It’s hard to believe that Naya used to live here, captured, all because of her own mother. Parents suck, all right.

“Get him inside the car,” Hal, the shaved officer, grunts.

The officer holding me yanks open the car door and shoves me inside the cramped backseat, hard enough that my head smacks against the roof. The door slams shut behind him with a loud thud, cutting him off from view.

Déjá vu hits me like a blow to the chest as I’m forced to hunch my body in the cramped backseat. I crane my head to fit, my knees pressed tightly against my chest because there’s no room to stretch out.

It’s just like when they took me to the police station after my parents died, sealing my fate forever.

I growl, irritation and panic coursing through my bones, making me desperate to get the fuck out of here.

I can’t be trapped again.

Time crawls by, and I can hardly see anything outside the car; the tinted windows obscure my view, leaving me unable to see clearly.

As if a bone has been snapped in the still air, a sharp, resonating crack echoes behind me, outside of the vehicle. My body goes rigid, every muscle tensing as I strain to hear what’s happening, but I cannot discern anything from the outside. A voice breaks out into a cry, followed by a hard thud and grunting, yet all noises are muffled by the car. Apprehension coils tight in my chest.

My heart is a madman trying to make sense of anything, and I desperately lean forward to see through the window, but I can’t fucking see anything.

All of a sudden, the car door opens with a yank, and in comes the shaved officer. Blood is smeared across his face, and when our eyes meet in the rearview mirror, I can’t help but notice the wild glint in his gaze. Seeing his face covered in blood, lips busted, and the gaze as crazed as a serial killer’s, makes instincts take over in me. I fight to free myself from these ridiculousgoddamn cuffs in front of my stomach.

“What the fuck?” I exclaim as he buckles his seatbelt, turns the ignition key, and revs the engine to drive off. “Where are the others?” Not that I care about them, but what thefuckis going on?

I look over my shoulder, squinting to make out anything through the darkened glass of the trunk, and then I manage to see frames of bodies lying lifeless amongst the foliage. Realization hits me like puzzle pieces falling into their right places.

“You killed them?”

His hardened eyes meet mine in the mirror, his mouth drawn into a tight line of displeasure. “Shut the fuck up.”

I frantically look around the backseat, trying to find anything I can use to get free of these cuffs.

“Why did you do that?” I ask him, confusion swirling in my mind.

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