Page 81 of Beyond Hate

“How sweet, but I—” London threw himself forward without giving her a chance to keep up with the shitty monologue. The sound of her gun going off sent a streak of pain along my cheek, against my ear. Pain… but I didn’t have time to think about it because London had thrown himself at her and knocked her to the ground. He wrenched the journal out of her hand and there was a loud crack as Elizabeth’s nose blossomed into blood.

And then another one when he brought the corner of the heavy book down against her face again.

She was already twisting her gun to aim at him, even though she was gurgling on the blood spilling down her throat.

I’d imagined this moment a thousand times, and it had been so different—I’d have her strapped down somewhere. I’d be able to torture her the same way she’d tortured me. I could have asked her a thousand questions.

I could have gotten all the answers.

And I could finally have gotten my revenge.

But it seemed like this was going the same way it had gone with London—there was no precise revenge, no movie-scene moment where everything unfolded perfectly. There was just London straddling her waist and crying while he bashed a book against her skull, and Elizabeth raising her gun to shoot him.

Reality and fantasy were two different things, and if I wanted the only fantasy that had ever mattered, I needed to end this now.

“London,move,” I snarled, and he threw himself back the second I spoke. Her fingers were shaking when she tried to lift her gun, and my bullet took her in the center of her already ruined face.

Reality and fantasy. I’d wanted years of torture, but Elizabeth Blythe was dead in seconds, before I’d had a chance to ask her anything, before there was time for me to get any kind of revenge.

She’d died fast and messy… and I realized that was just the way the world worked… and I was fine with it. I was fine as I fell to my knees beside London, and fine when I pried the book from his shaking fingers and dropped it to the ground as her blood pooled around us.

I didn’tneedsome fucked-up fantasy revenge. I needed to make sure London was okay. The sharp sounds of his breath coming in desperate gasps pulled me forward, even though my vision was a haze of red and black spots. Ihurt.

Then again, I’d never been around Elizabeth Blythe when I didn’t hurt. It was just different this time…

Different because it was the last time.

Different because I was standing on the other side of that pain, alive, and London was looking at me with desperate, wild eyes, like he wasn’t sure I was still whole, stillrealin front of him. All the anger and rage I’d seen pulsing through him seemed to bespilling out now in tears that streaked through the blood on his cheeks and left his eyes wet and haunted.

“You’re bleeding.” He started to raise his hand to touch my face, then jerked back. His fingers were soaked in blood—Elizabeth’s and that cop’s—and he looked between me and the bodies in the room around us in a panic. “You’re… are you okay? I… oh, fuck. I killed them. I killed them and I—”

I tangled my fingers in his hair and tugged the strands lightly, pulling his mouth to mine so I could stop him from working himself up even more than he already had.

The kiss was soft at first, leaving enough room for me to pull back. “It’s okay. I’m already so stained in blood, rabbit. I’m just sorry it finally spilled over to you.”

He came up on his knees and pressed his mouth to mine again, kissing me hard enough that for a second I forgot where we were. I forgot what had just happened.

I forgot everything but the taste of London’s tongue and the way his small body fit perfectly against mine… because in the end, he was the only thing that had ever mattered.

Revenge had somehow brought me here. I’d made a vessel out of my hate and sailed through an ocean of blood and rage… and adrift in that sea, London was the lighthouse that had finally led me to shore.

Chapter 31

London

Ittookawhilebefore I unwrapped myself from Otto so we could stand up. By the time we did, the blood soaking through my jeans was cooling, tacky, and I had to wonder what it said about me that it didn’t even bother me now. The feel of his lips against mine had slowly brought me down from the cloud of fear and panic pooling through my chest… and when my feet touched the ground, I realized it was okay.

That I would have done it all again, because we werehere.

We’d made it.

It was like we’d somehow outrun fate chasing us down and trying to break us apart again.

I wasn’t sure if I was becoming someone new, or if I was finally settling into whatever past life made up who I was now. Whatever it was, Otto took a second to bend down and carefully pluck the journal I’d used to hit Elizabeth with from the crimson puddle around her before he straightened up beside me.

Something about the dark cover dripping red made my stomach ache, and when he flipped the first page open and I saw the nameNicholas Blythein familiar handwriting, I shivered.The movement made Otto shift, and that made a photo flutter from between the blood-soaked pages.

I bent to grab it almost automatically, handing it to him with numb fingers… because I realized what it was.

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