Page 159 of Like Grim Death: Part One
Ezra sucks his teeth. “You always wanna act like it’s just you and Mav, Luce, fuck. Call Cain or Atlas, and have them look out for the girls. If you turn onto Corpus, they’re definitely going to follow you, then what? You have a shootout?”
I shift my gaze to him in the backseat. He’s already glaring at me, his gun still in hand. I don’t like his fucking attitude, but I can admit he’s got a point. And Mav and I might be second and first in command, but we’re all supposed to be willing to die for each other. Still, do I trust anyone enough to protect Rain and Lilith the way I would? Of course not.
Now though, as the Town Car edges closer, headlights flooding my tinted windows, I don’t have a choice.
I use the controls on my steering wheel to bring up Cain’s number, dialing him first. Atlas has been acting sketchy as fuck, maybe having some breakdown over Samson’s death and Natalie’s distance. Cain has his own sneaky shit going on, but I know it isn’t to stab me in the fucking back. Not exactly, anyway.
The phone rings once. Twice.
I stare at Cain’s name on my dash, holding my breath as the Town Car comes closer. Judging by the year of that thing, it’s not a car anyone would mind totaling. That doesn’t make me feel too good.
Cain doesn’t answer. It doesn’t go to voicemail either, just some generic bullshit about “this caller is not available.” I end the call, darting a glare to Ezra, but I dial Atlas’s number all the same.
A few rings later and the same shit, but this time an automatic voicemail. I don’t bother leaving a message as I hang up.
“You gotta anymore suggestions on counting on our brothers, Ez?” I snarl, just as the headlights flood through the back window, nearly blinding me, and a second later, their grill taps my rear end.
My car’s front angles to the left, the impact sounding worse than it was as metal grinds with metal. I keep control of the wheel, not jerking it, letting it pivot a little before I straighten back into my lane, accelerating and putting more distance between me and fucking Nikita and whatever muscle he’s brought along.
We’re half a mile from Corpus Ave’s entrance. I can’t call the guards and have them block off the Town Car because the gate won’t close fast enough after me for that.
And I can’t put any fucking faith in Nikita following me if I pass Corpus, instead of going after my family.
I slam my fist against the steering wheel.“Fuck.”
Maverick is angled to the back, gun aimed, same as Ezra. Sevryn still has his head bowed, and he’s muttering something over and over under his breath.
I want to scream at him to shut the fuck up as the yellow headlights flare closer, the car gaining on us as my speedometer reaches 140. I have to slow the fuck down if I’m turning on my street.
And I have to go there.
I can’t risk Lilith. I can’t endanger Rain by not being there.
My calf muscle jumps as my foot stays on the gas. Sevryn keeps talking, like he’s praying. There’s a ringing in my ears. A vision of Sid, lifeless and cold in my doorway. My son crawling through her blood, sticky prints tracking around the house. He’s not old enough to crawl yet, and I try to hold onto that. The fact it’s my worst fears flashing inside my brain and not anything that will actually happen.
I won’t let it.
“Cave adsum. Cave adsum. Cave adsum.”Sevryn’s voice grows in pitch, rising higher and higher as the Town Car flicks on their brights and I blink to see ahead, the long driveway nearly hidden by trees.
I have to slow the fuck down, but they’re going to smash right into me when I do.
It doesn’t matter.
I can’t go past my house.
My family.
“Cave adsum. Cave adsum. Cave—”
“Shut thefuckup,” Ezra snarls, aiming the gun at the side of Sevryn’s head. A sick bursting of relief erupts inside of me as silence fills the car and it’s like I can think again.
Before the Town Car hits me another time, I quickly switch over to the other lane, then drop gears, the engine roaring and transmission jerking as I do. I turn the wheel, careful not to yank it, my rear end zigzagging behind me but it’s not impossible to control.
The gates are peeled open, high and iron, and in the guardhouse I see a light flicker on, the side door opening immediately, but I’m not waiting around for backup.
Just as I gun it onto my street, the turn complete, a loudcrackrips through the interior of my car.
My heart leaps to my throat as I bear down on my house, scanning the exterior, like I could see anything amiss within. Then my eyes dart to the back windshield. The bullet didn’t pierce it, because these windows are fucking bullet proof, but that’s not the point.
