“She gave it her best shot.” I waved my hand dismissively. It had been a death match, but I’d faced worse. “I guess it just wasn’t her day.”
His hand stilled, and I knew he was gawking at me again. “This isn’t funny. Jax trained for decades with the pack. She’s stronger and quicker than a human, especially when she calls on her wolf. You’re incredibly frail compared to us. Like vintage china inside an armory.”
I cracked my lids just enough that I could see and stared at him. “Is that so?”
His irises flashed silver. “Yes, that’s so.”
The wonderful emotion called anger energized me, generating a familiar and missed wave of heat in my sternum. I might not be as fast as a preternatural being, but goddamn it, I wasn’t helpless.
The truth was Jackson died because she was stupid.
A smart person would have snapped my neck in front of Joshua and faced the firing squad after. Sure, there might have been the obvious questions and repercussions, but I was certain the bitch was well aware she was bound to get caught in the scuffle regardless.
Making the attempt to stand hurt. Each individual muscle protested the movement, a million pinpricks under my skin screaming at me for forcing them to work so soon after such torturous treatment. But I couldn’t stay on my ass. What I had to say required being on my feet. For a moment, I swayed like a rickety rocking horse on rusty springs. When the room stopped rotating, I planted my feet. I regained my balance and slapped off Carter’s attempt to assist me.
Then I walked to Jackson and peered down at her very dead body.
She was a mess.
The front of her face was now concave. Her once-full lips had become a part of gummy teeth in the back of her jaw. The top of her skull was completely gone, short chunks of hair bordering the mushy, Hostess Twinkie-like center. Her right ear dangled from the side of her head like a ghastly piece of jewelry.
“She should have killed me, huh?” I nudged Jackson’s body with my ruined Nikes and glared at Carter. “Why don’t you tell her that?”
I turned on my heel and limped past the werewolves in my path. They observed me silently as I walked past them. When I exited the apartment through the shattered entranceway with my brain-splattered head held high, I listened gleefully to the sharp squeaks of my blood-covered sneakers as they gripped the expensive ceramic tile and left a trail of red tread marks behind me.
I didn’t like being underestimated.
Carter had no idea what I was capable of.
Chapter Seven
Holy fucking God.
As we drove through the deserted city streets with Carter taking command behind the wheel, I gawked at the absolute devastation along the way. It was as if the heart of the city had stopped beating right along with the residents. Dorothy had once said “there’s no place like home,” and after viewing what had become of mine, I couldn’t help but agree. Versus bumper-to-bumper traffic with people congesting the streets, there was an emptiness that reminded me of Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend.
We’d left on our mission five days after I’d killed Jackson—just after high noon—and were given hours to locate Goose. Carter wanted to get the information I needed and return to base. Of course, he wasn’t aware I had absolutely no intention of returning anywhere with him.
Once I found Goose, I was sticking to him like glue. Despite my efforts to stay calm and think positive, nerves and a sense of doom had started shaking my composure. He was quite possibly my only chance to settle my debt with Zagan. I wasn’t going to let the man out of my sight.
I said a silent prayer that, with his assistance, I still had a chance.