Page 63 of Nocturne
The sharp, suffocating stench of burnt human flesh hits my nostrils, cutting through the air like a punch to the gut.
Hot blood drips down the walls and pools across the warehouse floor, forming silent red rivers, each one carrying its own story of pain.
The ragged, agonizing screams echo like souls being dragged straight to hell — and every single one of them, all of them, is calling out for me, for my fury.
This place isn’t just a hideout — it’s a profane altar, a blood sanctuary, where every drop spilled is a ritual of death and revenge that I command.
Hunter will pay. I’ll make him feel what it’s like to lose someone he loves. Even if, deep down, I don’t know if it’s hatred or desire that truly owns me now.
This is my revenge. This is my hell.
?????
I’m already far away, on the rooftop of some distant building outside Boston. Alone, lost in my thoughts, watching the city lights flicker in the dark like dead stars. Cold wind hits my face as I light a cigarette, the bitter taste burning my throat. I fucked everything up. Really fucked it. The truce is dead, gone for good — it’s only a matter of time before they come for me. But I don’t give a damn. I’ve still got some cards up my sleeve — and I’m gonna use them all.
Staring into nothing — the city, the starry sky, the cold light of dawn — my phone rings. I feel like a villain in my own game, but I’m about to show everyone that anyone who crosses me ends up six feet under. I’m happy with what I did. Set fire to everything, no regrets, in the cruelest, bloodiest way possible.
The phone beeps in my pocket, and the screen lights up with an anonymous message:
A cold shock runs down my spine, but I expected it. If they want war, I’m ready to make them bleed.
ANONYMOUS CALLER
(617) 555-8392
Truce broken
Subject: Damon Reed
Bounty: $500,000
A cold shock runs down my spine, but I expected it. If they want war, I’m ready to make them bleed.
CHAPTER 14
HUNTER
I open my eyes slowly, heavy, like my muscles are trapped in some thick-ass fog. Blinking doesn’t help right away, twice, three times, the blur starts to fade until the light finally slices into my vision, revealing a cold, white room. The constant beeping from the machines cuts through the heavy silence, steady and fucking annoying, like some kind of warning I don’t wanna hear. Outside, the muffled noise of the city creeps through the half-open window, cars, voices, life, like it’s all happening in another world far from this one. Sunlight slips past the curtain, its rays warming the exposed skin on my arm, reminding me that, somehow, I’m still alive.
My gaze lands on the bed I’m lying in, and the sting of a needle jammed into my vein pulls me back to the present. A clear tube connects my arm to some invisible IV drip, a quiet reminder of just how wrecked I am. I shake my head slowly, restless, my heartbeat stuttering in my chest as I try to piece together the mess in my mind.
What the hell happened?
Why the fuck am I here?
The answer hits way too fast, a sharp, brutal punch to the brain. Pain. Guilt. Lust. All of it slams into me like a goddamn freight train. Images crash over each other,too vivid to push away. I can still taste Damon on my tongue, sex, rough and scorching. Every kiss, desperate, hungry, every touch that burned like fire. His scent’s still in my fucking nose: a fierce mix of sweat and spicy cologne, thick as hell, clinging to me like a goddamn invisible tattoo.
And then, the memory of the fury in his eyes, that blind thirst for revenge that consumed him. The night at the warehouse, shadows twisting into silent screams. He came at me with ruthless determination, a predator off the leash, and I couldn’t fight back. Not out of fear, maybe just too damn tired to battle something already lost. My voice died before it left me, my hands froze. I just let him land every hit, unleash all that rage he’d been locking inside his chest for so long.
I still see it clear as day, the gang’s cold, calculating eyes locked on me, waiting for me to fight back, to show some damn sign of resistance. But I stayed there, quiet, still, surrendered. The metallic taste of blood started flooding my mouth, a bitter, cruel flavor that mixed with the heavy silence of the room.
I pull the pale blue blanket up over my legs, muscles throbbing like every inch of me got run over by a freight train. Still, I try to sit up, slowly, grinding my teeth through the pain tearing across my ribs, my back, all of it.
My hands shake, but I rip the needles from my arm, feeling the instant burn of skin tearing. The heart monitor goes nuts, blaring loud and urgent, like it’s screaming for me.
Fuck that.
I’m alive. And I need the hell out of here.
