Page 30 of Run Little Killer
We all fall quiet, the faint sounds of muffled shouts reaching my ears.
My blood runs cold, pulse hammering in recognition.Lennon.
My boots thud against the concrete as I charge for the door, Nix and Kurt right behind me. Panic rolls through me as I swing my gaze around the inside of the garage looking for her, but she's not anywhere in sight. A muffled thud sounds from behind the closed bathroom door and my hands curl into fists as I stalk closer. Lennon shrieks and my jaw tightens, teeth grinding hard enough to shatter a molar.
I wasn't there for Tess when she needed me. That guilt will never fully dissolve, but it'll be over my rotting corpse that someone touches Lennon and lives to tell about it.
She's fucking mine.
"Lennon!" I shout as I kick in the door, the cheap wood splitting as it bounces off the wall. Her red-rimmed eyes go wide as she stares up at me, but there's no relief in the moment. Some red-headed fuck knocks her back and my vision tinges red, a primal urge to protect her rocketing through me.
Hot pin-pricks of rage weave across my flesh as I step forward without an ounce of hesitation, grip onto the ginger’s clammy skin and jerk his head to the right. Bones snap, his entire body going slack as I let go. His body folds to the floor, unmoving as blood leaks from his stomach.
Did she stab him?
I snap my head up to find Lennon standing there with her chest heaving, blood trailing down her neck, gaze fixated on the man on the floor, her bloody knuckles whitening around the hilt ofthe knife.
She fucking stabbed him– alot. Guy looks like a goddamn human colander.
"Little killer?" Nix murmurs as he steps out from behind me, taking a cautious step closer and showing her his palms.
She doesn’t move. Her lips part in the slightest, but no words come out.
"Lennon," Nix tries again, tone even softer as he closes the distance between them and extends a hand. "Give me the knife."
Her head snaps up, the same distant look haunting her eyes as it did after her nightmare. "No," she says with a shake of her head, her hand gripping the hunting knife trembling.
"Darlin', give him the knife," I say calmly.
"Stop!" she shouts, jumping back and waving the knife out in front of her.
Why does she look so hot when she’s being stabby?
"Easy now," Nix soothes, reaching out again to try to disarm her.
"No!" she cries out, swinging her arm wildly.
Nix lunges forward with an annoyed grunt, snatching her wrist and yanking the knife from her hold. "Fuck me," he spits as a rivulet of blood blossoms from a cut on his palm where the blade caught him.
"No, no, no," Lennon whispers between strangled breaths, eyes wide as she inspects her blood covered hands. A tear slips out the corner of her eye, her shoulders shuddering as she inhales sharply.
Just like after the nightmare, something about seeing her like this makes my stomach sink. It's like the lights have been turned off– she's still Lennon, but only in the way of physical presence. Her snarky attitude and feral smile thatmakes my dick ache have been completely stripped away, leaving her hollow and scared.
"What should we do?" Nix asks as he shoots me a sideways glance, tone laced with concern.
He doesn't show his feelings like most people– or at all, really. But when he cares about someone or something, he's loyal to a fault, always willing to risk himself in the process. He’s put his neck on the line for me plenty of times. I've seen the spark between him and Lennon– hell I've had a front row seat to the tension– and I can tell he sees something special in her. Webothdo.
"I know what she needs," I murmur, shooting Nix a wink before taking a tentative step closer to our girl. She doesn’t so much as flinch when I lay my hands over hers, holding them between us. Her chin slowly lifts, vulnerability etched into her gaze. "You're okay, darlin'," I say calmly.
"He cornered me,” she starts, voice faint and raspy. "He called me crazy. Heknew. He shoved his hand down..." she trails off with a shudder.
I reach up, cupping her chin and tilting it. My eyes scan over the blood spatter on her face, looking for its source as I ask, "Are you hurt?"
"It's not mine," she breathes.
Now where have I heard that before?
“Well, not all of it,” she says, fingertips lightly grazing over a shallow gash.
