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I could get the guys and ask them to come with me, but this is my fight, and I won’t risk my family again.
I will end what I started by doing what I should have done months ago.
I dress quickly, donning some fishnets and black shorts before pulling on a corset, half black and half red, split down the middle with an ornate Q embroidered on the chest. Reaching behind me, I struggle to tug it tighter, and after swearing and sweating, I finally get it done and add a pair of my thick-soled black boots.
I grab as many blades as I can carry before turning back to the mirror.
Smeared in blood and weapons, I look like a creature of death.
I look like a hunter, and as I smile at my own reflection, I know that’s exactly what I am.
I’m leaving cirque, heading toward Diamond’s beat-up Dodge, when I feel something following me.
My hand slides down my side to grip a blade, and I whirl, only to still at the sight of the tiger. Freedom pads after me with her head down, clear intention in her eyes. Wherever I’m going, so is she.
This is her family, and one of us is hurt. She’s loyal, she’s a huntress, and she plans to come with me, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.
“No, Freedom. Go back,” I order, my eyes narrowed. “This is my fight. I’ll do this alone. Protect the others.”
Her head lowers, and she flashes her fangs in warning. I press my lips together as we stare each other down, but I know I need to leave before they come looking for me.
This is my hunt, not theirs.
“Fine,” I snap, grinding my teeth. Spade will be so mad if she gets hurt, but Freedom is a wild animal, and trying to control her is impossible. “Stay close and don’t get hurt, okay?”
I open the door of the car, and she hops in, sitting in the passenger seat as I climb behind the wheel. I spare her another look and snort. “I can’t believe I’m going to hunt down my husband with a tiger and cirque power flowing through me. How strange is my life?” Turning on the engine, I pull my mask down. “Let’s do this.”
She mewls in agreement, and I speed away from the cirque.
The need to spill blood fills me, and fury keeps me moving.
I know I’m not completely sane right now, but I don’t care as glass crunches under my boots as I stalk through the darkness, hunting my victim.
I start in the obvious place—the ambush site. It’s empty. Bodies still litter the floor, but Roger isn’t here, and I don’t find any signs of life, so I keep moving.
Cops. If I can find them, then I can find him. I don’t know how I know that but I do, and I trust in the cirque’s instincts as I turn and follow that power.
I leave the car behind, knowing they couldn’t have gotten too far. Most of them were injured, and this place is a crime scene, so I know they won’t leave the area.
I walk only a mile or so before I see a fire. Freedom and I silently stalk closer, crouching in the grass as I grin. Three of the cops sit there, one wiping blood off his hands and face as they huddle around the flames, scared of the dark. They should be. They don’t have a clue what nightmares it holds.
Like me.
“I can’t go home like this. Tell me why we’re listening to this asshole and waiting here in case they come back while he goes home?” one of them sneers, clearly pissed off at the state of their little group.
I don’t care about his injuries or these men, but his words tell me all I need to know. They know Roger well.
They are perfect.
Bloodlust pumps through me, along with adrenaline, as I stare at their backs. I don’t need all three. I only need one—just to talk.
Eeny, meeny, miny, mo. My smirk turns evil as my finger lands on the one to the left.
“I guess you’re the lucky one,” I whisper as I nod at Freedom. “Wait here.”
I sneak up on the three men, grabbing my unsuspecting victim, the one in the middle. I slam his face into the fire as he screams in shock and pain. The flames lick at my gloved hand, burning me, but I hold him there. The one on my left gets to his feet, rushing me, but I kick out. He hits the ground hard, and I release the man whose face burns as I duck under the other’s swinging arm, only to come up with a blade, gutting him from navel to neck. He falls backward, gurgling and screaming, trying to decide if he should cover his neck or his intestines falling from his stomach.
Turning, I face the chosen one as he clambers to his feet, his eyes wide. His friend rolls around on the ground, screaming as he covers his face, while the other tries unsuccessfully to push his insides back into himself.
