Page 62 of Bound to a Killer
“Right,” she says, her voice almost swallowed by the click of her seatbelt as she shifts herself out of the car.
I follow suit, then yank Aria’s door open and nudge her out. This time she’s quicker to rise, her legs more stiff than shaky, and her eyes planted on my chest. She can’t even bear to look at me.
My tongue darts to wet my lip, pushing away the misplaced anger rising in my chest. “Both of you keep quiet. I’ll do all the talking.”
Frankie shifts to my right and Aria silently nods, her eyes flickering to mine for a beat before they slide to my sister. They inch closer together and fall behind my heel as I spin toward the warehouse, the towering steel doors anticipating our arrival.
Once inside, my eyes dart around in the darkness, my lids narrowing to the corner in the back where Dee last sat, but I don’t make out his figure there.
Nerves climb higher inside me, but I push all feelings of doubt aside. I have nothing to be paranoid over. These guys are close to Tanner. It’s all good.
I push forward. “Jagger?” My voice echoes, bouncing off the towers of cardboard boxes and plastic crates lining the perimeter. “Dee?”
Nobody answers.
A tiny bud of worry coils in my stomach and expands witheach step I take, seizing my throat and numbing the tips of my fingers and toes.
I stop walking.
Something’s not right. It’s eerily quiet in here.
Outside, both vehicles were empty.
That can only mean one thing.
“Ledger?” Frankie’s voice cracks from behind me, her fingers lightly grazing the back of my leather jacket.
“Not now, Frankie.”
Slowly, I scan the space between the empty desk and the corner where the photo backdrop still stands, my eyes drifting back to the cleared desk, like the IDs might magically appear the second time I look.
Then a crate scrapes somewhere to my left, sharp and abrupt, before a tall column of them comes tumbling down to a jarring crash.
I whip my head around, legs bent, heels digging into the concrete as I brace for an attack.
Emerging from between the clutter is Jagger’s blurred, lithe frame, his body snapping forward like a spring toward me, a warrior’s cry bursting from his throat.
Shrill screams tear from both girls behind me, rising in frantic harmony, while my own snags in my throat. I don’t spare either of them a glance. I stay locked forward, determined not to get caught off guard. My arms shoot up just in time to catch his blow as he slams into me with a spine-jolting force. It’s enough to throw me off balance, but I manage to get ahold of his elbow as I stagger backwards, twisting his arm until I hear a crack accompanying the howl ripping through his throat. I use my spare hand to snatch the silver-edged blade out of his grasp while expletives burst from his unhinged jaw, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he yanks his arm away.
I drive the blade into his side, showing no mercy as I force the jab with every ounce of strength in me.
Another scream bursts loose, high and hoarse, but I don’t stop. I yank the knife out, the sharp edge tearing through layers of stubborn muscles, only to plunge it back into him.
Again.
And again.
And again, until his pasty skin takes on a bluish tint and his screams dissolve into hoarse gasps. Satisfaction doesn’t come until I drive the blood-slicked blade into his chest one last time, aiming straight for his heart.
The muscles in my arm strain as I rip the blade out again. His lips remain parted, jaw locked in a silent scream before I discard him into the warm pool of blood circling his lifeless body.
The metallic heat drips from the blade, staining both my hands red as I fist them at my sides.
The pounding in my ears begins to fade, and my focus sharpens to the muffled cries behind me. I stiffen, faltering before I fully turn at the sound of slow, drawn-out clapping and a familiar deep voice. “Well done.”
Recognition siphons the blood from my face as I whip around to face Antonio.
In front of him, Aria and Frankie flank his sides, one on the right and the other on the left, both held tight as leverage.
