Page 54 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
I choked, staggering back, knees threatening to buckle beneath me.
“No, oh fuck, no—” I couldn’t look away, even as my stomach heaved and I pressed a hand to my mouth to hold back the sickness.
Buster’s head was gone. Just… gone. And his legs—oh God, his legs—were bent at impossible angles, his paws clawing at nothing.
“No, no, no…” My hands hovered over him, trembling, unsure whether to touch him or pull away.
This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening.
I retched violently, my body convulsing, my empty stomach heaving painfully, again and again. My knees trembled, willpower alone keeping me upright. I couldn’t leave him there, I couldn’t let sweet little Buster lay on my step like a piece of discarded rubbish… But the thought of touching him, of my hands coming away covered in blood sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.
The SUV’s engine rumbled from the other side of the road, directly opposite, a low, menacing growl, the headlights off. I whipped my head around, my wet hair plastering to my face.
They wanted me to see this.
They? Not they, buthe.
Kelvin.
Hehad done this. I knew it with every nerve in my body.
He wanted me to see every single piece of cruelty he’d visited upon the friendly, trusting, defenceless cat. Something scorched in my throat, burnt through my chest. Not bile this time, not sickness, but fury.
I lurched towards the SUV, my legs heavy, willing them to carry me. It edged forward, its lights still off, moving just a little too fast for me to catch up. It—he—was taunting me, mocking me. With a sudden burst of speed, and a roar of its engine, the SUV turned the corner and was gone.
That was when I began to shake like I never had before, as the horrifying realisation crept in, sharp and undeniable. Buster’s vicious murder was a message, a foretaste, of what Kelvin could do to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ALEX
I pulled up outside Kit’s at just after two in the morning, every muscle in my body aching with exhaustion. My meeting with Parker had dragged on for hours, every angle of the transfer to Kelvin examined, debated, and dissected until my head throbbed. All I wanted now was Kit—his warmth, his smile, the way he made the rest of the world fade into background noise.
The house was dark, not a single light visible, not even the porch light Kit always left on. My hand stilled on the key in the ignition. Kit always left the light on, but I was too tired, my nerves stretched too thin to think anything more of it.
I rushed to the door, through the drizzle that was that remained of the earlier storm, my key at the ready. Something hard crunch underfoot. Glass. Where the porch light had been was the broken, jagged remains of the bulb. The weak, yellowlight from the street lamp was just strong enough to illuminate the rest of the glass shards, kicked to the side of the door.
What the fuck had happened? Fear exploded in my chest. I scrambled to open the door, but I’d barely scratched at the lock when it flew open.
Mud streaked Kit’s clothes, was smeared across his arms and face. His hair hung in damp clumps across his forehead. But it was his eyes, wide, glassy, and red-rimmed, that sent ice tumbling down my spine.
“Kit? What the?—”
He didn’t answer, as his legs buckled. I barely caught him before he hit the floor. His body was ice-cold and trembling as I clutched hold of him.
“He killed him,” Kit choked out, his voice raw and broken. His fingers twisted into the fabric of my jacket. “Buster. He—oh God, Alex—he killed him.”
“What?” The word came out in a rush as I pulled him closer. “Who killed Buster?” I kicked the door closed behind me, and fumbled for the light switch.
“The SUV. It washim. I know it was.” The words tumbled out in breathless, panicked fragments as Kit stared up at me, eyes bulging with fear. “He—he followed me. From the alleyway. All the way home. He was waiting for me—he wanted me to see what he’d done. Buster—he was—” His voice broke with a gut wrenching sob. “He cut off his head, left the rest of his body on the doorstep. What kind of sick bastard does that to a defenceless animal?”
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. The words hung in the air between us, cold and heavy, sinking into my chest like stones. My breath came hard and fast, my heart hammered against my ribs as the pieces clicked into place. The SUV. The mutilated cat. The visceral, bloody, message.
Him.
Kelvin.
This was how he worked. Fear, intimidation, cold and calculated cruelty. I’d seen it so many times over the years, seen him dish it out to others. But tonight, he’d gone after Kit. Which meant he’d gone after me.
