Page 24 of Taming Seraphine

“Then whose?” I glance around the empty gas station.

“A man came to the window,” she says, her voice distant and flat. “He was rude.”

“He touched you?”

“I stabbed him in the eye.”

The words hit like a gut punch. “Where is he?”

“Over there.” She tilts her head toward the window.

“Where?” I snarl.

“On the ground.”

I open the door and walk around the front of the car to find a man lying wedged in the space between the passenger side and the foot of the pump.

Seraphine watches me with wide eyes, her features a blank mask. Ignoring her, I crouch by the fallen man and check his pulse. It’s weak and thready, but he’s alive. I stare down at the bleeding man, bristling at his continued presence and at the prospect of having to clean up another crime scene.

My fingers twitch toward my gun, but I’m not about to discharge it without a silencer or in a place so flammable. Instead, I reach into my pocket, extract a box cutter and slice his jugular. While he bleeds out, I call Miko.

He answers in two rings. “Hey,” Miko says with a yawn. “Is everything alright?”

“There’s a gas station at the intersection of Beaumont and Tourgis. Can you hack into its security system and wipe all evidence that I was there?”

“Did you pay for anything?” he asks.

“With a disposable card. Don’t worry about that.”

“Consider it done.”

I rise from the soon-to-be corpse, my nostrils flaring, and return to the driver’s seat. Anton’s old warning returns two-fold, confirming that Seraphine is about to become a liability I can’t afford.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“For what?” I start the engine and ignore the pang of guilt that rises from her flinch.

“I made another mess.”

That’s an understatement. When I cast her a sidelong glance, she’s staring up at me like a helpless little kitten. I tear my eyes off her and concentrate on the road.

Seraphine sighs, the sound so soft and forlorn that the fibers in my long-dead heart twitch back to life. She’s trouble and her reckless killing is a nuisance, but there’s a part of me that wants to wrap her in protective bandages and erase the past five years of her life.

But I can’t allow her to continue a violent spree that will lead the cops, or worse, to my door. I’m also not about to sacrifice my life to save hers.

“You can’t go around stabbing every man who shows you disrespect,” I say.

“Why not?”

My molars clench and it takes every effort not to swerve. “Because it will get you killed,” I grind out. “If the State of New Alderney doesn’t hand you a death sentence, someone else will.”

“But you killed my dad and the twins, and that man who was lying on the ground.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“So do I.”

Frustration bubbles up to the surface, building up like a pressure cooker. I’m starting to suspect that Anton’s training either failed or only went as far as how to commit murder. Maybe the Capellos originally kept her chained up in a basement because she’s a danger to herself and others. Who the hell kills eight men without a plan and stays at the scene of the crime to make a sandwich out of one of their cocks? My pent-up frustration reaches a fever pitch and explodes.

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