Page 2 of Chalk Outline
So delusional, it makes me want to pluck that eye out.
The crunching sound of his bones breaking echoes in the room as I strike his hands and legs next.
He made a huge mistake putting a price tag on my wife’s head that is worth millions, making her the target of hit men and women from all over the world. Sacrificing myself to ensure her safety is something he would never understand. Not in this lifetime. Maybe the next. If he is lucky.
No one will hurt her as long as I’m breathing. I will hunt every single one of them down and kill every person who gets involved.
Unlike him,my wifemeans everything to me. I wouldn’t rest until I wiped these cold-blooded monsters off the face of the earth.
The flesh dangles off his head and bounces as I flip Timothy on his back. His skull is cracked open, eyeballs hanging out like bloody egg yolks, and his bones are smashed to pieces—most people would flinch, pass out, or vomit at the sight.
I’m used to it by now.
Pulling out my pocket knife from my thigh bag, I flick it open with practiced ease and begin cutting into his chest. I hum to myself as blood pours out. The subtle movements become those of a cold-hearted monster feeding on its prey.
I’m so fed up.
And I’m fucking furious.
Chapter two
Winona Bishop
The Apparition — Sleep Token
The fresh smell of pumpkin spice drifts as I walk past the kitchen. The cake came out of the oven an hour ago and is cooling on the counter. I bake when I’m lonely, anxious, overwhelmed, or on the verge of tears.
I don’t know why.
It’s not really my thing, but I’ve been doing this since I was a teen to distract myself, so I guess it’s my thing after all.
Drawing has always been my go-to when I need to unwind, but sometimes I can’t even bring myself to draw. So, I either bake or go to Grandma’s range and shoot some fake targets in her underground training room.
“Come on, Titan,” I call before my goofy Cane Corso dashes outside.
My foot hits something on my way out the entry door. I twist the key in the lock and drop my gaze to see a medium-sized box with a red ribbon atop it.
I didn’t order anything.
I watch Titan spin around himself, wagging his tail in happiness as if he had seen his favorite person.
Impossible.
I give the box an experimental kick.
Nothing shifts suspiciously.
I carefully bend down to tug at the lid, and my eyes widen at the horrifying sight before me.
Lungs.
Human lungs are sealed in a plastic bag. Beside it, a note with a message:
He will never breathe the same air as you ever again.
I stare at the dried blood around it, frozen for a moment before flicking my eyes up to scan the street from left to right and back.
My breathing quickens as I pull back the collar of my shirt to get some air, and my eyes widen in horror as the realization strikes me.
