Page 66 of Run Like the Devil

Sure, without Loch we’d want revenge, but we wouldn’t work together well enough to manage it. That meant the Path was focusing on Loch to break us all, and that it wouldn’t stop until it ended her.

Yazmor pulled in a quick breath, seeming to fully understand it the same moment I did. He turned and took off in a run, and I followed suit.

I wasn’t about to let this fucking place have Loch, and I didn’t give a damn what I had to take on to ensure that didn’t happen. I’d done a lot of fucked-up shit in my life and my afterlife, but I’d do anything to protect Loch.

The Path had no idea just what it was up against.

Target my woman at your own peril, fuckers.

Chapter Sixteen

Loch

“The good thing is that you guys aren’t nearly as quick as the real versions.” I dodged to the left when faux-Hale swiped for me, narrowly avoiding his hand.

Thus far, I’d managed to stay out of their grasp after my first run-in. The more I moved around these four, the more obvious it became that they were really shitty copies of the real thing.

The real Lords would have handed me my ass if they’d grouped together like this. Instead, these four didn’t seem to work together, all blindly grabbing for me.

Then again, I’d felt faux-Hale’s strength when he’d wrapped his hand around my throat. It didn’t take being good if a person had numbers and luck, and worse? The presence of non-virgin incels showed that everyone got lucky eventually.

The men didn’t speak, which further showed they weren’t the real ones. My men, even the quiet ones, still talked. They bitched and moaned, mostly, but it was still noise. These hadn’t uttered anything.

The more they moved around, the more they went for me, the surer I became that they were little more than animals in the shape of the Lords. They reached for me on instinct, the actions showing no signs of intelligence or planning.

Thank fuck they aren’t working together.

I dodged to the right when faux-Gorrin went for me, but I slammed into the side of something hard. When I twisted, I found that faux-Tyrus had guessed my direction and beat me there.

Which meant they were getting smarter…

Just fucking great. My men couldn’t seem to learn new tricks but these did?

He wrapped his hand around my arm to hold me, then lifted a hand. It wasn’t some slap or backhand—no, faux-Tyrus apparently wasn’t the type to worry about me being female. Instead, his hand curled into a fist that sailed through the air at me.

And wow had I underestimated the strength this version of Tyrus had. He slammed into my cheek, the action knocking me backward into the soft ground. It rattled my brain around in my skull, making it hard to regain my thoughts, to move, to do anything. I wanted to lie there for a moment and rethink my entire life.

However, when a heavy body pinned me from above, that plan went out the metaphorical window.

Above me was Yazmor, the violet eyes so shockingly familiar that between the hit and the physical similarity of this Yazmor and real Yazmor, I struggled to tell them apart. Those eyes had looked at me so many times, had made me feel safe. Even with the messiness between us here in the Path, a part of me almost instinctually melted for him, giving into Yazmor as I had so many times, placing myself in his hands and trusting him.

Except, he didn’t smile. This Yazmor didn’t pull his lips into a grin that was too wide and entirely inappropriate. That shook me free of the nostalgia, reminded me that this wasn’t my Yazmor.

I tried to roll, to knock him off, but he was so much larger than me. He hadn’t ever seemed that large, but pinned beneath him like this, I recognized how deceiving that really was.

When no side-to-side motion worked, I did the next best thing. I planted my feet on the ground and lifted my hips. It was an exercise men loved to watch women do, as if exercise were just a show for them, but it was effective.

By doing it, I unsettled faux-Yazmor’s balance, throwing him forward.

In for a penny…

I lifted my head, hissing in a sharp breath at the impact when he slammed against me. Still, it did what it needed to, and when I rocked to the side, he fell in that direction.

My head pounded, my thoughts fuzzy, telling me I had probably hurt myself as well with that little stunt. Still, it was like an animal chewing their own foot off in a trap.

Better to give up the foot than to die entirely. With him off, I rolled, scrambling in the dirt to get to my feet.

Except someone wrapped a hand around my bag, tearing the pack from me and tossing it aside. I squirmed, but the person grabbed my leg, next.

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