Page 203 of Vicious Saint
“A-Alice…”
“Well, Alice, as you can tell…this isn’t Wonderland.”
Passing her to get to Luke, my arms spread wide. “I’d look away, sweetheart. Things are about. To get. Gnarly.”
Luke may be a loser, but he’s not an idiot, because the second he stands he’s gunning for me.
It’s a smart move, but not a successful one.
Because I block his swing to my face with my arm, then grip the nape of his neck, smashing our heads together, repeating the process until I’m dizzy. My vision is blurry as I watch him stagger back, calling out to Gunner for help.
A stupid move this time, because the guy’s cousin proves his shortage of loyalty by shaking his head.
Blowing out a breath, I pop my lips. “Well, that’s awkward.”
After allowing Luke five seconds of gaping I charge, tackling him to the ground. Then, with a leg hiked over his torso, my fists swing wildly at his face.
He attempts to block me with his forearms, but all it does is rouse the craving for violence. Mayhem. Hunger for more blood.
So much I swoop down and dig my teeth into his earlobe, relishing in his screams as I tear off a chunk and spit it across the ring.
The girlfriend screams obscenities as I hammer his skull into the concrete, rendering the piece of shit unconscious.
With a tilt of my head, I examine my work, then call out to innocent, crying, pleading, Alice, “Looks like you may not have a choice but to find a new boyfriend, sweetheart! Seems this one’s out of order.”
The rush of euphoria, determination, and absolute fury takes over, making me dizzy. Incoherent to anything but the urge to get lost in all three. To keep falling, in spite of the sober, faint voice in my head telling me not to let go.
That I’ll regret it in the morning when I’m me again.
Fuck you,I inwardly tell my conscience, the hypocritical motherfucker who’s been hiding up until now, then slam my palm against my forehead until his voice is gone.
Shoving a hand into my pocket, I cast a glance at Levi. For the first time in a week I can feel concern radiating off him. Cursing himself knowing he should’ve but didn’t stop me before letting it get this far.
Who’s thinking maybe he should’ve encouraged me to take my actual meds instead of self-medicating with drugs and violence.
There’s always been a thin line between Saint and Vicious, seems my best friend has been too distracted with his own demons to help me tame mine. Because now my monster has broken through the fortress, baring his teeth and claws in the version of Halo.
“Saint…” Levi warns, taking a step toward me.
“You’re gonna want to stop right there, brother.”
This monster doesn’t discriminate.
Levi’s seen first-hand the damage I can cause when I’m pushed to this mood, so, begrudgingly, he heeds the warning.
And I go back to focusing on my original target.
Halo glides with ease along my bloody knuckles, tingles erupting as I flex them.
“Whaddya say, buddy, hm?” I hold my hand in front of me. “Chest? Neck? Mouth?”
Voices emerge in whispers on top of each other, each more sadistic than the last, growing louder and drowning out every other person in the room.
Fading their features.
Emptying them to vessels.
Until there’s nothing to home in on except a demand…which I obey without hesitation.
