Page 32 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
I think I’m hyperventilating.
Everything shrinks in around me, pressing down on me and weighing heavily on my back. I pull against the cuffs, but it does nothing except cause pain.
I can’t even sit up to see how many from the pack are here.
There are muffled voices filtering through the closed windows, but I’m too panicked to make out any of the words.
Is there any point in trying to calm down? Even if the vest doesn’t work, the pack will kill me the moment they get their paws on me.
They want me dead for killing the enforcer.
Someone’s walking toward the car. Their carefully controlled footsteps skate across the gravel. My door opens, and Grayson leans down to undo the cuffs.
I try to say something, but my mouth is dry. I lick my lips so I can talk. “Please,” I whisper.
Need I say more?
I don’t think so. He knows what I’m pleading for.
Grayson helps me sit up, and his blue eyes are filled with remorse. “You’re going to be okay.”
Since when is being dead okay? This is why humans and supes don’t mix. They could care less about death. Permanent death for a supernatural is hard to come by. They’re so resilient.
Whereas humans break with the right amount of pressure and twist of the neck. We crumple like broken dolls and our flesh rots away like apples in a compost pile.
Supes can heal. They can come back from a broken neck. They can heal shattered bones.
The only consolation I have is that the vest loaded with silver will take out some of them.
Hey, at least I’ll go out with a bang.
A strangled sob climbs up my throat, but I claw it back down. I won’t let them see me break.
Grayson tugs me out of the car, and I stumble on my feet. His arm snakes around my waist to steady me. He shoots me a look. I must be hallucinating because I see panic written all over his face.
Maybe he’s having a sympathy attack. He can hear my heart, breaths, and sense my spiraling emotions. Do my final moments screw with his heightened senses?
Good. I want him to suffer through every single emotion that’s attacking me. I want him to fall to his knees as I die, feeling the pain tearing through me as though it were his own.
“It’s okay, Demi.”
I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me. “None of this is okay.”
My baggy shirt is covering the vest, and the men in front of us watch as Grayson practically carries me across this gravel parking lot. I’d scream, but I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.
“This is her?” a gruff voice asks.
I glance at the man in front of me. A scruffy looking surfer dude. Shaggy blond hair, a deep tan, and a smile that I’d normally say was gorgeous.
“She killed Derrick? She’s tiny.”
A few of the other wolves agree with him. “Have you broken her in?”
Ugh.
Please kill me now.
I recognize the irony of the moment. Not two seconds ago I wanted nothing more than to live, but if he wants tobreak me in,I’d rather die. Realizing I have no other choice but to woman up and kill this fucker before he can lay his hands on me, I plant my feet and start walking for myself.
