Either way, I know that we’re going to still be together when it’s over, and that’s all that truly matters.
CHAPTER15
TIERAN
Hensley keeps trying to wrench her hand out of mine, and even though I’m allowing her some leeway, I won’t let go.
Not now, not ever.
“Hey, what’s that?” Hens suddenly asks, nodding at something across the street. I follow her gesture, then tug her back toward me violently when I see … him—it?—watching her with the same ravenous appetite that Gloria’s customers used to look at her with.
A child.
Children.
They fucked us against our will, beat us when we wouldn’t comply, then made us fuck each other so they could get off on watching.
A surge of unbridled rage goes through me as I push my sister behind me and look around on the ground. Finding a yellowing and dirty bottle, I walk over, pick it up and smash it against the ground garnering the attention of whatever the fuck that is.
When it looks at us, I can see that it’s a man. As of yet uninfected, but the way he watches Hens …
I grunt as I burst into a run, flying across the street as quickly as my boots will carry me, burying the shattered glass into his fucking neck.
He gurgles and spurts as his hand wraps around my wrists. I don’t know if he’s trying to get me off of him, or if he’s trying to get me to stop, but either way, this motherfucker isnevergoing to look at my sister like that ever again.
As the life leaves his eyes, as my breathing becomes the only sound to be heard over his pathetic sounds, I can feel myself suddenly relax.
“That was kind of dramatic,” Hens remarks. I jump slightly as I look up at her, my hands crimson from his blood, the broken bottle still lodged in his neck.
“What?” I ask in bated breaths.
“Nothing,” she replies softly with a small smile.
I turn my attention back down to him before I reach a hand up toward Hensley. When she takes one of my blood-stained hands, I gently pull her down and slide back on the bastards stomach to give her enough space to sit on his chest and upper abdomen.
“Ready?” I ask, resting my chin on her shoulder.
She nods.
“Now,” I whisper.
Together, Hens and I grip the neck of the bottle and tug it downward. The violent rip and tear of his flesh, the chiming sound of my sister’s gleeful giggles, the knowing that we’re not safe here … it all makes my dick twitch slightly.
“Look!” Hens says happily after we’ve torn a hole from his gullet to his sternum. “He wasn’t sick!”
I peer around her as she pulls his flesh to either side. One hand yanking on the left, then digging back in to help the other yank to the right. Once she has him open like a body on an autopsy table, she reaches for the bottle again to rip a hole into the muscle between his lungs.
Hensley grunts with effort as she hacks away at the sinew holding his heart in place. I can feel her body become hot with exertion and smile when I can faintly smell sweat on her sweet skin.
One of my favorite scents in this world has always been Hensley.
She’s almost always in a mood so her sweat, the toxic air and dirt, mixed with faint aromas of the gardenias she likes to lay in when we’re lucky enough to find them make for one hell of an intoxicating aroma.
Especially since it’s hers.
“Not like that makes much of a difference now,” I tell her with a chuckle. “Come on, we can’t stay here like this.”
“How come?” she asks as I loop my arms beneath her arms and pull her to her feet.