Page 69 of Vow of Vengeance
Marissa takes another breath, slow and steady. She nods, just a little. But it's decisive. She's made up her mind.
"Then take it.” Wes whispers. His breath is on her neck, and I don’t know if her eyes are fluttering from the proximity or because she’s just that out of it. “It's yours, but I'm right here with you."
Her lip trembles, just once. One last betrayal of her loyalty to the man who was supposed to be a friend to her.
And then she pulls the trigger.
twenty-eight
Soren
Itfeelslikesomeoneis stabbing my brain with an ice pick.
A lobotomy.
"There's my fucking wife."
I didn't see the face of the man who attacked us, but I heard his voice. And it took my breath away, robbed me of every bit of oxygen I need to make sense of what the fuck just happened.
I'm on my back, which isn't how he tackled me, so I definitely lost consciousness at some point.
I can't see much from my position, and my body doesn't respond when I try to sit up and take note of my surroundings. A look down at my arms shows me they’re there, strapped down to my sides, and I blink, trying to figure out where I am.
Horror slams through me as the memory comes back to me- of watching Violet be knocked to the ground, turning for the gun before the same attacker dragged me down too.
I think I’m lying on a bed, given that I can make out a dresser on the opposite wall. There’s a little tripod sitting atop it, with a cell phone mounted on it. The little light assures me somethingis being recorded, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’sme. I’m being recorded… watched.
Am I dead?
Maybe I was shot in the scuffle and didn't notice.
But if that was what happened, why would I still hurt?
I suppose it tracks, if I ended up in hell. And hell must be where I am, because there's no other explanation for the man who steps before me.
“Vin?” I choke on the terror leeching into my lungs.
"Oh, baby." Vin huffs a sound of relief when he sees my eyes have focused enough to take him in.
He stands before me in all black- gym shorts and a tee that shows how pale his arms are, ghostly.
"What is this?" I mean to ask it, but the words come out on a sob.
I'm either in hell, in which case I'm pissed because I don't deserve this, or my fucked-up mind is torturing me for reasons I can't even begin to guess at.
Vin smiles, but it looks all wrong. It trembles, like it's not really there, the way I imagine a hologram glitching.
"God, I've missed you." He shakes his head slowly and then lunges forward, the mania on his face betraying the fact that he is not in his own head right now.
When his mouth crashes against mine, I try to escape him, horror unfurling in my stomach, bringing a wave of nausea alongside it.
He tastes like ash, decay and rot and fucking death. He tastes likemydeath.
"Kiss me." He groans, his wet mouth pulling away from mine just long enough to make the request. I try to turn my head when his tongue seeks mine again, slimy and warm, but he grips me by the throat and squeezes hard enough, right in the middle, that I feel my air supply pinched off again.
I still don't kiss him back, my head swimming and my stomach twisting with revulsion as he chokes me, both hands wrapping around my neck to assert dominance.
When he moves his grip, air floods my dying lungs, and I choke on it, coughing and hacking as the nausea pushes higher, threatening to come out.
