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He wasn’t so scary now.
Some sick part of me almost wanted to laugh.
Maybe I would have.
If the van door didn’t suddenly slide open, flooding the space in brightness, and revealing my savior.
It had to be him.
Somehow, I knew it was.
But there he was, knuckles busted open and bloody, eyes filled with the same kind of rage I felt flooding my system.
Familiar hands reached out, grabbing me, lifting me and setting me on the ground outside of the van.
I think I expected a hug, a moment of comfort.
But as soon as Riff’s gaze moved over me, checking to make sure I was—at least physically—okay, he turned away, climbed into the van, and slammed the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Riff
Metal was blasting from the van, making my stomach cramp painfully, knowing why the music would need to be that loud, what kind of horror that could be trying to cover up.
My vision tunneled as I flew out of my car, running toward the van, reminding myself to thank Detroit for all the long hours in the gym, because I swore I made it there before I could even draw a breath.
Through the window, I saw the side of one of the men from the house in the woods. But he was sitting facing backward, watching… whatever was going on in the back.
And it was excitement and joy on the motherfucker’s face.
Well, I would be all-too-happy to wipe that fucking look off.
I grabbed the handle, saying a silent prayer of gratitude when it pulled right open, unlocked.
The man didn’t even get a chance to register what was happening before I was grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and yanking him outward.
“The fuck—“ was all he managed to say before my fist was colliding with his face.
Once.
Twice.
Blood flooded his mouth, spilling out like a horror movie.
He tried to grab for me, to put up some weak-ass defense.
But there was no fighting me, not right then, not with the fire raging through my veins, destroying everything in its wake.
I slammed him back against the van, watching his vision flicker at the impact of his skull on the steel.
And liking that way too much not to do it again.
And again.
And again.
“Yo!” a voice called, hands grabbing me under my arms, pulling me back. “He’s down,” he called as I glanced down to see the arms pulling me back.
