Page 56 of Slaying for Santa
“Hey, Azza! What the fuck are you doin?—”
His words cut off as he passes the doorway I’m hiding in, his eyes trained on his gang mate bleeding out on the floor.
“What the fuck.”
And that’s my cue.
Stepping out, I reach up and tap the guy on the shoulder, readying myself as he spins in a panic to look at me.
Slash.
Shit. This really is too easy.
More blood coats me as the guy slides down the wall and he gargles, drowning in his own blood.
Well… this is fun?—
A hard body slams into me from the side, and I go crashing to the floor as the sound of a war erupts on the floor above me.
“You fucking whore!” another unfamiliar voice snarls, fisting the back of my hair, and slamming my head to the floor.
Pain bursts through my skull, and darkness rims my vision, but the sound falling from my lips is a deranged laugh.
“You idiot,” I laugh, and he lurches off me, giving me space to roll over and look up at him. “Don’t you know how much I love pain. Keep roughing me up like this and I’m gonna come.”
“The fuck!”
He lunges for me again, and I go to swing my knife, only now realising I don’t have it anymore.
Whoops.
Spinning on the floor, I scurry on my hands and knees over my second victim, rushing for the open door of the room Libi is still huddled in.
“You like pain, do you?” the guy says before a boot comes down hard on my back.
I cry out as the pain hits, following it up with a laugh even as tears fill my eyes.
Okay. So maybe this isn’t so fun.
I like pain... in the bedroom.
I especially love it coming from Kit’s hands, or teeth, or dick… dammmnnn. Kit.
Now flat on my stomach, I cough and wheeze, deciding antagonising this guy needs to wait until I have a knife in my hand, so I army crawl to the open doorway.
“I was told not to kill you, but you have to fucking pay for killing a Serpent.”
I ignore him, dragging myself through the door, my eyes finding Libi, curled tightly in a ball in the corner as she rocks herself, her big eyes locking with mine.
“Knife.” I reach out towards her, the four metres of spacebetween us feeling more like a football field. “Toss the knife to me.”
Libi whimpers as another heavy kick lands in my ribs, and I scream as I feel them crack, bending in half as the clatter of the knife meets my ears, falling short.
Shit!
I have to get to the knife. If I don’t kill this guy, he’ll hurt Libi.
Before I can get much further, the idiot fists my hair, dragging me further into the room, chuckling as he sees Libi.
