Which should’ve clued me in, as the next moment, the first leering bearded man steps forward and drags me around the end of the island, placing his own vicious dagger against my throat.
My knees buckle.He hauls me back up.I attempt bravery, but mostly, I suffer an out-of-body experience:
Dear Death—been searching for you for a really long while.About time we get this right.
Sabera stills.It’s harder to be stoic when someone else will pay the price.
I want to tell her it’s okay.I’ve been running from a bullet for years now.It was bound to find me eventually.I assumed I’d suffer flashbacks of Paul, who took that bullet for me.Or scenes from Wyoming, or a certain Boston cop.As unfinished business goes, I could fill a warehouse.
But mostly I think of Seattle, of a brief interlude where I felt safe, seen, and heard.A gift, I realize now.Why do we never realize these things till it’s too late?
Will he cry for me?
I honestly hope not.I’ve already been a big enough pain in the ass.
Before me, Sabera’s expression hardens.I don’t have to be a genius to understand the math.There’s nothing we can do that won’t result in our deaths.It’s merely a question of how slow versus how fast.
Her gaze is faintly apologetic.I get that, too.She never intended for her actions to harm others.Welcome to my life.
I let my gaze fall to her belly, hope she gets the message.She’s still fighting for two, and well, I’m only me.
The first razor slice down my cheek is so harsh and unexpected, I scream.The second, a matching cut, has me writhing and thrashing against my captor’s impossibly strong grip.
I shriek, I can’t help myself.But it’s not so much a wail of pain as a roar of outrage.Son of a bitch.When I get my hands on him…
Then the blade’s nipping at my throat, gouging, slicing, but I no longer fucking care.
There’s something wrong with me.I’ve always known it.Where others would cower, lick their wounds, seek to pacify…
The more this fucker hurts me, the more I want him dead.
When he moves to carve a fresh hole in my shoulder, I smack back my head as hard as I can, catching him in the nose.While Aliah rises to standing and pelts him with one, two, three objects in a row.Whisks.Or maybe graters, it’s hard to tell.
He stumbles, momentarily outraged, while his partner shouts out at him in a language I don’t understand, but I’m pretty suretranslates to “get the fucking woman under control.”In response, Aliah beans Sabera’s captor with a colander, while Sabera starts cursing a long string of words I definitely get.
Clackety-clack-clack.Swish-swish.
One last play.
I slam my foot into my attacker’s insole.Then, when he jerks his foot away reflexively, I jam my elbow into his gut.He doubles over, dragging the blade down my neck and torso.I’m so intent on my mission, I don’t even notice.
I twist out of his grip and shove him to the floor, dropping a banana peel atop his face as I do so.
Petunia, God bless her…
Now the screaming is real.As it should be.
The motherfucker dares to try to stab my iguana.I stomp my foot on his wrist, three times for good measure.Then I snatch the knife from his nerveless fingers while Petunia takes a second snap at his nose.
I twist toward Sabera and her captor.I’m not human.I’m not real.Blood pours down my cheeks, neck, shoulder.I have a wickedly curved weapon in my hand and I want to drive it into the fucking horrible, awful piece of shit in front of me.Who tortured Sabera.Killed Isaad.Abducted Aliah.
Is this bloodlust?Because I feel nothing but a roaring in my ears.
The lone standing male has his hand wrapped around Sabera’s short-cropped hair, jerking her head up, exposing her throat.The shotgun he used to blast their way in here dangles from a strap around his torso, but we are much too close quarters for that.
A woman possessed, I advance.
He glares at me, jabs his own knife into Sabera’s throat.
