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If he had done just the slightest bit of research on me, then he would know, I could never let him walk out of here alive with that last bit of information.
As I thought he would, he stuffs the phone in his pocket before walking over to me. He moves around me pressing the gun into my back.
“Walk,” he demands.
“You shouldn’t have put that phone away,” I say.
“What?”
I don’t answer, instead I lean to the side and reach around with my left hand shoving the gun toward the ground. It fires a round. I spin around to face him, bending his wrist with the gun in it toward his pocket. He fires once again and the bullet hits something hard and metal making a crunch sound. First threat taken care of. In no way could I allow him to alert the Church.
Shade reaches behind him, for what I assume is another gun. It would make sense. Without letting go of his right arm, I spin around him, bringing the arm I’m holding to his back. He’s still clutching the gun. Taking my free hand, I shove his elbow up, popping the bone out of place, rendering the appendage useless.
Shade howls in pain and drops the gun in his right hand. He swings around aiming the newest weapon at my head. I move to the side a split second too slow and the bullet grazes my ear.
I grab his arm with the new gun, pushing it out in the opposite direction. I slam my head into his nose. Blood squirts out everywhere. I then chop him in the throat. When he bends down, I use the momentum to flip him over onto the ground landing on top of him. As he’s falling, I reach for the bowie in my ankle holster. It was a gift from Seth.
He lifts his arm up to aim his gun at me, I slice the bowie into his arm nearly severing the hand from the wrist. He screams, kicking me off him. I flip over his head, popping up quickly and coming to my feet.
Shade rolls over on to his knees as he cradles his bleeding appendage to his chest.
I toss my knife into my other hand and smile. Shade growls, springs to his feet, and then rushes toward me. I spin out of his way causing him to run past me, I grab him by the back of the neck, yank him back, and then shove the blade of my bowie into his back again and again. Even when his limp body falls to the ground, I don’t stop stabbing him.
He thought he would threaten my son and walk free. I raise the blade over my head and bring it down over and over.
“He got too close. What if it would’ve been a disciple? They would’ve killed the boy and then taken you. You’re a failure.” Mother’s insults are loud in my ears.
I stab down so hard; my blade goes through his skull and sticks into the ground beneath him.
“Useless cum stain,” she continues. “You are worthless.”
“They got too close. I failed.” Looking down at the body beneath me is a reminder of how much I’ve messed up. I clutch my bloody hands to my head.
“Failure.” Mother taunts over and over.
“They got too close. They got too close,” I repeat as I tug at the strands of my hair nearly yanking them out of my scalp.
“What in the hell?”
I shoot to my feet at the sound of Summer’s voice. Turning to face her, I find her staring wide-eyed at the body on the ground.
“Useless failure,” Mother reiterates.
However, I don’t think about how bad I messed up, my first thought is Summer. Blood and dead bodies are triggering for her.
I put a cap on my shit as I take a step in front of her blocking her view of the body.
She looks me over. When I glance down, I realize I’m covered in blood.
“It isn’t mine,” I quickly explain.
She shuts her eyes, her hand covering her chest.
“Where’s Gabe?” She opens her eyes and looks back at me.
“The whore knows you’re a failure. She can’t even trust that you kept your son safe.” Mother snarls in my head.
“Hiding,” I say, clenching my hands tightly at my side.
