All three of my guys are down. I don’t look directly at them. I don’t need to. They’re lying wrong on the floor. Broken dolls.
The fucking nurse is screaming her head off. “No killing. No killing!”
I pull off my stocking mask and level my piece at him. “Stop right there.” A barrel in the face is enough for most guys. But this guy isn’t most guys. He’s drugged up, that’s clear. Unsteady on his feet.
But it’s more than that.
This guy isn’t quite human. What the fuck?
He’s bigger than his brothers. Panting, bloody. But it’s his eyes—something more animal than human in his eyes.
I’ve seen all kinds of guys, seen them when they’re out of their minds with fear, with anger.
This guy is in a class all his own. Like words don’t get through, and in that moment that we’re facing off, I’m wishing I’d brought something bigger. More of a cannon. But this guy isn’t even seeing my gun. Like having a .45 against a bear who’s looking to fly at you. You’ll get a shot off, but will it matter?
“No more killing, 34,” she gasps from behind me.
Kiro’s gaze shifts. Words don’t get through—unless the hot nurse says them. But then she starts sobbing—maybe she’s seen the bodies.
My heart pounds. “Listen to the lady,” I say. “No killing.” Like I’m talking to the wind. This guy’s gone.
I manage to get off a shot as he lunges for me. Flies, like a fucking madman, going for my throat, fingers grabbing my face. I hit him, but he’s pure rage. Kiro doesn’t like his nurse being messed with.
He hits me. I play dead, but he has me up. You don’t fool a killer like this. He has me by the neck. I’m clawing at his fingers, and right then my life flashes before my eyes. Spots form in my vision. I feel my legs start to go.
I think about that old bitch’s prophecy. The brothers together. He’s a fucking nuclear arsenal. I should’ve dynamited the whole place.
“No, 34! Don’t kill him.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ann
He’s choking thelife out of the man. Right before my eyes.
“No!” I sob. I don’t know what I’m saying “no” to. The rubble. The smell of blood. The antiseptic. Donny. The kitten crying. The insomnia.
Patient 34 slams the man against the wall like a rag doll. The sound is sickening. The man slumps to the floor, out cold. Maybe dead.
Patient 34 turns to me then. I whimper and scramble sideways, but that just seems to draw him. In a fluid motion, he has my arm.
My mouth goes dry. His hair is wild, amber eyes fiery. I freeze, unable to move. His nostrils expand and contract, and I can feel him tremble—with murderous energy, I think. He’s scary, yeah. Like a beast of a warrior.
But the main word that comes to my mind is “majestic.”
There might be a little bit of awe as well.
He reaches up to my cheek. I jerk away, not wanting him to hurt me, but he tightens his hold on my arm. “Don’t be afraid, Ann.”
I reel at the force of my name on his lips. Again he reaches up his hand and lays gentle fingers on my face. Sticky. Blood. Am I bleeding? Is he going to kill me, too?
“Please let me go,” I whisper. “Please, 34.”
He doesn’t listen, or maybe he’s just beyond hearing. Wildly I look around at the dead and unconscious men. I’ve never seen anything like this. Not even in the war zones.
He seems mesmerized by my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking in fear as he touches my hair. He holds me in place with a grip of stone. I try again to pull away.
“No.”