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Pretty eyes fluttered closed, and that tested me further.
“Now, get the fuck out of here, and don’t look back.”
Out of the hag’s line of sight, I pushed away from the tree, my bleeding hand pulled Cat with me, and then I shoved her in the direction I wanted her to run.
I’d be a lying bastard if I said my energy wasn’t depleting and the blood loss wasn’t affecting every part of me but my dick, where so much of my remaining blood seemed happy to linger.
Well, that was exactly what I was. A liar. Because I’d push on, pretending that nothing was wrong. Nothing between Earth and Hell could stop me from doing what needed to be done.
“Come out, whores!” the hag screamed, spinning wildly. “You, too, handsome. You think you can get away with killing one of my boys!” Spit came out with her words, but it wasn’t through upset. The struggle to keep her oversized dentures in her mouth became a hindrance, and she quickly dropped them into a deep pocket on her bloodstained apron.
I kicked up a twig from the ground. It made the slightest noise, pulling the hag’s attention to me so Cat could escape unnoticed.
Her long skirt twirled as she turned around again. “Ha! I heard you.”
I heard nothing as she angled her gun in the direction of something moving quickly through the trees. She fired, clearly not looking at what she was shooting at because she narrowly missed one of her scruffy-looking dogs.
The noise scared him, and he scurried away from the path that would have brought him to my ankles.
She jumped around, her aim weaving through the trees. She fired, blowing the branch at my side to pieces.
She had to reload, and that gave me time to charge her.
I gripped her badly dyed ponytail, yanking out hundreds of black hairs and a dozen gray ones that the pigment hadn’t stuck to.
My grip loosened, my palm flattening her head to the nearby tree. She tried to scream, but the tree bark muffled it. She inhaled, breathing in bits of wood that I hoped would kill her slowly and painfully.
It was a shame those dentures weren’t still in her mouth so that they could have slipped down her throat and choked her.
But, oh well.
I’d settle for her death regardless of how it was caused.
And I wouldn’t feel guilty for it.
Once upon a time, she might have been one of these girls. Bought for a purpose, and developed Stockholm Syndrome and false feelings for a manipulating bastard who couldn’t feel anything.
She might have been innocent, but I didn’t give a fuck because even if any of that were true, she wasn’t that person now.
I yanked her face back and asked, “Do you want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
She mumbled something inaudible.
“I’m thinking of all the ways you probably hurt my girl, and it makes me so fucking angry.”
I fisted her hair, using all the strength I had to slam her ugly fucking face against the tree.
The hooked bone in her nose splintered, breaking through her skin.
Her frantic hands reached back to me, her dirty fingers knowing exactly where my stab wound was because she’d caused it.
Two digits pushed inside me and opened wide.
Against the tree, her mouth opened, drool leaking out as she laughed despite her pain, and I did the same, unnerving her and silencing her instantly.
My laugh was cut off when she started talking again, and the only words I heard were “your little slut.”
“What the fuck did you say?”
