Page 128 of Whips and Chains
I filled my lungs, the thought of accidentally shooting one of them so horrific I wanted to toss the gun straight off the ledge behind me.
But I wanted it to be one of them. Wanted to know they were here, fighting side by side with me against a faceless, cowardly evil.
The headlights lit me up, and I shielded my eyes with my arm, trying to see through them.
I prayed for it to be X’s van.
Except it wasn’t. When the headlights dimmed, a plain white van with the darkest tint I’d ever seen sat in front of me.
The same one that had been used when they’d thrown the brick through my windshield. I was sure of it. I’d been seeing that van in my nightmares, right alongside headless men and Toby sacrificing himself for me.
They all played over in my mind again now, and I shoved them away.
Now was not the time to lose focus.
“I’m here,” I shouted to the person inside the van. I spread my arms out. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? I’m here!”
I held my breath, waiting for a response.
Or for the guys to creep out of the shadows and surround the vehicle.
Nothing happened.
Fear rose up my throat, threatening to cut off my voice, but anger came right along with it. And it was the driving force. The one that overpowered everything else.
The man in that van was responsible for Toby’s death.
“Get out and face me!” I screamed. “Get out and show yourself, you coward! Because that’s what you really are, aren’tyou? A scared little boy, getting off on terrorizing others. A sick, sad, son of a bitch who probably lives in his mommy’s basement.” My chest heaved, the wind stirring up the sea behind me into a frenzy that fed the one pounding through my blood.
A primal shout ripped from my chest. “Get out and face me, you fucking asshole!”
Nothing happened. The person inside the van didn’t move.
The storm inside me exploded, like lightning had struck and obliterated everything in its path.
I yanked out the gun and squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot splintered the night, the crack so loud my ears rang, and my hands vibrated from the recoil.
But my aim was true. The van too big a target and too close for me to miss.
The shot bounced off the windshield, leaving barely a mark behind.
I didn’t even have time to flinch or wonder where the bullet ended up. I just stared in horror at the fact it hadn’t even left a dent in the glass.
Bulletproof glass.
Dread filled me. Who the hell were these people? But more than that, it was the realization that I was alone.
If X or Whip or Levi were hiding somewhere in the shadows, there was no way me firing a gun wouldn’t have drawn them out.
I was entirely fucking alone, in the dark, with a psychopath.
My fingers shook, the gun slipping from my grasp, and I didn’t even stoop to pick it up. I couldn’t move.
The driver’s-side window lowered, and I held my breath, waiting to hear his voice. Waiting for him to show himself.
I needed to know who it was. The not knowing was worse than the fear.
