Page 63 of Mountain Daddy

“You stay clean,” I tell him.

He nods frantically. “I swear. I swear on my mother's grave.”

“Good.”

I pull a handkerchief from my pocket. Wipe the blood from my knuckles.

That's when I hear it.

A sharp intake of breath.

I turn.

And there she is.

Lilly.

Standing at the mouth of the alley. Face white as bone.

She saw everything.

The violence. The rage.

Our eyes meet across the blood-stained alley.

Hers are wide with horror. With fear.

With recognition of what I really am.

She takes a step back.

Then another.

Then she turns and runs.

“Shit!” I gasp.

She's gone.

And I'm standing in an alley with blood on my hands, watching the only good thing in my life disappear into the distance.

Again.

16

LILLY

Irun.

My feet pound against the sidewalk like I'm being chased by demons. Which, honestly, I am.

The image burns behind my eyelids. Nikolai's hands around that man's throat. The blood streaming from split skin. The way Nikolai’s face went cold and deadly, flipped from human to monster.

And God help me, the sick part?

It turned me on.

I should be horrified. Should be packing our bags and running as far from this town as my car can take us.

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