Page 20 of Reclaimed

The tip of my tongue traces across my teeth as I linger in the shadows, letting her gain some distance before I pursue. Her steps are quick and eager, and I shorten my own long strides when I follow, preserving the distance between us so as to not give up my position.

She cuts across a wooded lot, and a flicker of movement catches in my peripheral. Seems like I’m not the only predator out tonight. She hops over a metal barricade, veers to the left and disappears out of sight– someone else just a few steps behind.

My molars gnash together. I don’t share.

A metallic crash erupts as I clear the corner, trash spilling from an overturned can as she grapples with a hooded figure on the brick beside it.

She writhes beneath him, one hand shoving at his face as the other slams into his ribs. Leaving herself unguarded, he takes the opening, landing two shots to her stomach. She grunts, flailing her legs and kneeing him in the nuts. They trade a few more half-assed punches before she manages to clip his jaw.

Bored of watching, I draw my gun and fire off a round. She lets out a guttural scream as blood splatters and his body goes limp on top of her.

“You’re fine,” I murmur, holstering my gun and taking a step closer. “But your technique fucking sucks.”

7

JERSEY

Blood sprays across my face, a scream tearing from my throat as my attacker collapses lifelessly on top of me. His weight barely settles before it's being ripped off and tossed aside.

"I had it handled," I wheeze, pushing up to my elbows and scrambling backwards in the dirt.

"Clearly," Repo Man deadpans, shoving up the sleeves of his hoodie and resetting the overturned trash can.

I brace a hand against the wall, my pulse pounding in my ears as I drag myself to my feet. "Go play hero somewhere else," I growl.

"If he killed you, I wouldn't get paid," he replies flatly, his face void of emotion as his inked forearms fold across his chest.

A strange sense of relief washes over me with the knowledge that he's not here to kill me. That doesn't mean The Registry won't when he hands me over, though. If I can just keep him at arm's length long enough to catch my breath, I can make it to the salvage yard…

I think.

I fucking hope.

Mack– the guy who bought my necklace– said if anyone can get me out of the city, it's the woman who owns the salvage yard.

"How chivalrous of you..." I trail off, squinting at the patch on his vest. "Riggs."

Velcro rips as he pulls out a set of restraints from his vest. "Due to the default of your Guardian, The Registry has issued a reclamation order for you,” he states, his icy blue eyes locking with mine. “I'm here to collect."

"So, uh…" I clear my throat, tracing a hand along the hem of my sweatshirt. "Does that pickup line usually work for you?" My fingers brush over my back pocket in search of the letter opener. Still there.

Without a word, he advances, one deliberate stride bringing him closer.

Too close.

I quickly match it with one of my own backwards, refusing to surrender the distance between us.

"While your bubbly personality makes that seem tempting, I've got to see a guy about a thing." I gesture vaguely behind me as if that explains everything, taking another step back.

"Don't," he warns, his voice low and even.

The threat is clear in his tone, but I'm still latching desperately onto the hope that if I just keep moving, I can get away. My boots scrape against the concrete as I pivot and take off at a dead sprint.

Unlike last time, he follows.

Each one of Riggs' long strides erases two of my own. His boots hammer against the pavement behind me, matching the frantic cadence of my heartbeat as the buildings crowd in around me until there's no way out.

Dammit.