Page 131 of Fatality

The pieces fall into place. That silver, diamond-shaped piercing.

Last time, he'd lost his shit when I hit that spot. And when I'd tried to rip it out, he'd become downright lethal. Feral.

For a split second, I catch his eyes.

They move with unsettling precision, glowing as they track my movements, already calculating the angle and timing.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” he roars. “I will fucking rip your head off!”

I snap my head forward, slamming it into his cheekbone—the exact spot I know could do some real damage.

If he had a weak spot, that was it.

He tries to duck, but not fast enough.

His head snaps back, and his body drops suddenly, like nothing is holding him upright anymore. His grip loosens instantly.

I drop the few inches to the ground, coughing as I run toward the front door.

The pain of my forehead against his bone is secondary.

Behind me, I hear him grunt. It wasn't enough to knock him out. Not even close.

But it's slowing him down.

And right now, those few precious seconds are all I have.

There is no way in hell I'm letting him kidnap me and do whatever the fuck he wants to me—or actually kill me.

For all I know, he could drag me down to the Lower Layers, sell me off, or hand me over to some illegal clinic running God-knows-what kind of operation. Maybe take my organs.

What the fuck do I know? What I do know is that it's not happening.

My lungs are already burning by the time I burst through the building's front entrance.

I hit the street at full speed, weaving through the crowd, shoving past startled pedestrians and muttering rushed apologies over my shoulder.

I don't stop.

I don't look back.

And I definitely don't want to find out if Evren is behind me.

Kyle, I asked for a sign, but I didn't mean for a probably six-foot-something psychopath to break into my loft once again.

I turn sharply into a narrow side street and finally slow down, desperate to catch my breath.

I glance down and realize I’m barefoot.

And also standing in the middle of the city in my pajamas.

Fantastic.

My chest heaves as I press a hand over my racing heart, trying—and failing—to calm myself down.

Again.

Once again, he broke into my home.