More blood pours from the tip of Eli’s knife.
“Snitchin’ whore.” A sick smile curls his lips. “Just like her sister.”
She cries out, and the sound slices through my chest.
I blink and shake my head, sure I misheard. “What did you say?”
Trix cries out. More blood. She claws at his arms, but he doesn’t let up.
Dread and fear and anger mix in a volatile cocktail of hate.
“You fucking heard me, asshole.” He rips Trix back farther, her bare feet skidding in the dirt as they search for purchase. His eyes are wild, like I’ve seen Drake’s when he’s high and paranoid. “She’s a snitch.”
I step forward, watching the blood drain from Trix’s face. Her legs wobble and Eli hoists her up.
“You killed Lana.” Uncertainty gives way to rage. “It was you—”
I’m grabbed from behind, the cool metal of a gun shoved into my temple. I struggle against it. A thick forearm wraps around my neck.
Two guys have me locked down. I don’t allow my eyes to move from Trix’s.
“End him. Now.” Elijah says.
Trix lurches forward. “No—” Her voice cuts off with a vicious tug at her head. My heart pounds.
I struggle again, but I’m overpowered. I throw everything I have left into getting to her, but gain zero distance. Fuck, this is it.
“Kill him!” Elijah’s eyes are bulging from his head; the knife he’s holding to Trix shakes in his hand.
One of the men holding me back groans. “Fuck.”
The gun cocks.
I struggle harder, hoping one of my guys gets to me before Trix has to see my brains blown out over the desert.
“Mason, no!” Trix flails in uncoordinated kicks until the neck of her shirt is soaked in her own blood.
The visual rockets through my veins.
Fury rolls, swelling. Svetlana died because of what she saw, now so will Trix. Just like her sister, she’ll be cut and sliced.
It builds, raging in a violent crest. Ripped from everyone who loves her. Taken from me with one swipe of that blade across her neck.
Madness ramps as the weight crashes.
First Lana, now Trix.
Tortured.
Destroyed.
Lost forever.
I roar and rip from the hold. The flare of a shot fired doesn’t slow me down. Elijah’s eyes widen seconds before I hit. Trix’s body falls limp to the ground as I tackle him. His knife jabs, but I feel nothing except for the passion that rages for justice. Every hit connects. The battle with flesh and bone mirror the battle within as I release years of anger on the man who’s hurt those I love.
The heat of fresh blood coats my hands, and I can’t stop. Voices call out, hands try to grab, but my obsession for revenge spurs me on. His arms drop limply, his head lolling with every punishing blow. But it’s not enough.
Wind whips around my head, kicking up dust to coat my blood-soaked arms with grit. Registering on some level that he’s out, I can’t pull back my fury. Can’t cage the beast that’s out for revenge. For Trix and for Lana.
He deserves to die.
Lights shine brightly all around, but it’s fogged, tempered by my mania.
My lips curl back over my teeth, and the metal tang of splattered blood feeds the fire. More, more, I’ll never stop. I don’t fatigue. Left-right-left-right, every punch energizes the next.
Can’t . . . stop . . .
My muscles lock up. Fuck! Heat stuns me still. I’m knocked to the ground. My body flops without control. I struggle to get up, to finish what I started, but my muscles spasm and ignore my efforts. I try to look around, but even my eyes are doing their own thing.
Soft hands cradle my head. Trix’s eyes fill my field of vision. Tears stream down her face. “Shh . . . it’s okay.”
No! I try to force the word, but nothing comes out. She must know as she cradles me closer, rocking. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay now.”
She’s not safe. Not yet. Not until every motherfucker here is dead. I fight, push my body to react to my brain’s commands, but get nothing.
“It’s over . . . shh . . . stop fighting it.” Her voice soothes as I come back into my body. “It’s okay,” she calls out to someone. “He’s okay.” The last word cracks with emotion.
Twitching, I force my muscles to respond. I reach up and wrap my hand around her neck, her blood tacky against my palm. I flex my fingers into her neck, trying to communicate. I’m okay, but you’re bleeding.
She holds my grip to her wounded skin. “I’m good. I promise.” She runs her fingers through my hair and keeps her eyes locked with mine. I’m unable to release her neck. Feeling her pulse flutter beneath my fingertips is the best fucking feeling, and I hold them there until our heartbeats align.
No one’s coming after us. It’s over.