Page 141 of Unhinged
For half a second, I think I’ve bought time. But then he’s snarling, grabbing at the waistband of his pants.
“I’ll show you pathetic,” he growls, yanking them down with shaking hands.
He steps back, fumbling with his zipper. The sound slices through the silence. His gaze is wild. Fixed. He starts toward me.
I thrash, twisting, trying to get some leverage, but my hands are still chained above my head. I had a plan. Had a damn bobby pin in my mouth, pulled from Tina’s hair while she gloated. I was going to use it. Pick the lock. Get free. But then I passed out and dropped it somewhere and now I’mfucked. Hopefully not literally.
No.No fucking way.
I scream. Kick. Fight. I won’t let it happen again. Noteveragain.
And then?—
BANG.
One deafening gunshot. Earl’s eyes go wide and he drops. Just crumples to the floor, body slack and useless.
My breath freezes in my chest. My alphas. My heart leaps.
But it’s not Gears. Not Arrow. Not Acid.
It’s Marcus.
He’s standing in the doorway, still holding the smoking gun looking like a vigilante. His eyes sweep over me, and I see the guilt hit him like a truck.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand, breathless.
He doesn’t say anything. Just rushes over and drags some old crate under me. It’s wobbly but solid enough that I can get my feet on it, and holy shit—relief. My legs shake and I gasp when the weight finally shifts off my arms. The blood rushes back into my hands and shoulders so fast it feels like I’m being stabbed with a thousand needles.
Marcus bends over Earl’s body, yanks the key from his belt, and starts undoing the chains. The second I’m free, I stumble, but he catches me. It feels weird to be upright.To not be chained.My body is drained. Aching. Raw. But I’m me again.
I wrap my arms around Marcus. Not because I’m falling apart or need saving—but because he came. Because I trust him. He’s my friend. And right now, that means more than I canexplain. I press my face into his shoulder for just a second. Just to breathe. Just to feelsafe.
The door slams open.
It’s Tina. Screaming her head off, waving a knife like she’s in some slasher movie. Her eyes are wild, mouth foaming, hair stuck to her face like she’s been running through Hell to get here, and maybe she has. Wouldn’t surprise me.
Marcus turns, but he’s too slow.
I shove away from him and throw myself at her, grabbing her wrist as the blade swings toward his neck. We slam into each other hard, our bodies tangled, fighting, both of us slipping and tripping and clawing like animals. The knife flashes between us, too close, too fast.
“Get off me!” she screeches, spit flying, her face twisted.
She’s stronger than I thought. All frantic and twitchy and pissed off. I feel the blade slice across my abdomen, slicing my shirt open but not catching my skin, but still I don’t stop. Iwon’tstop.
And then she moves wrong. She jerks forward instead of back, tries to twist out of my grip, and she messes it up badly. She lunges right into the knife. All her own momentum. It slides in deep. Right under her ribs. Her eyes go huge. Her mouth falls open. She gasps once. Then again. Blood spills out of her mouth, running down her chin, and she just sort of sags.
“You were supposed to love me,” I say, and my voice comes out weird. “Protect me.”
She drops to her knees, hands still kind of reaching for me. Then she falls all the way back and goes still.
Gone.
I stare at her for a second. Just long enough to feel nothing. Then I pull the knife out of her chest. My hands shake, but only a little.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” I whisper, stepping over her body.
Because I don’t have time to fall apart right now.
