Claire yells from the front seat, spitting demands at the driver to get the vehicle under control. The van continues to swerve side-to-side, the driver unable to regain control.
Another hit and the van lurches to the side and crashes into something solid. Patrick collides into me, colorful words spilling from my mouth as we slide
towards Jay. My back slams into the wall as we come to a halt, the behemoth smashed up against me. My ears ring from the impact, and it takes several seconds to get my eyes to focus. Patrick may be disproportionate as hell, but he’s still really fucking heavy.
“Jay, tell me it’s who I think it is,” I grit out, taking advantage of the chaos and wrapping my arm around Patrick’s neck in a steel-tight grip. His hands fly to my arm, clawing at me as I gradually crush his windpipe. He struggles, and I clench my jaw as I fight to keep him still.
I’m weak, in an insurmountable amount of pain, and my muscles are loosening.
“Sure is,” he pants, sweat pouring down his pale face.
“Good,” I mutter before gripping Patrick’s head and snapping it to the side, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. “That’s for my grandma, dick.”
“Bro, none of your grandparents are still alive.”
Chapter 3
The Hunter
Claire is screaming from upfront to keep driving, but the engine stalls.
I kick Patrick’s dead body off of me and stand, perspiration coating my skin. I’m point-two seconds away from passing the fuck out. My body is beginning to shut down from the physical trauma, but I can’t allow it to just yet.
Jay quickly unbuckles and stands. “Come on, they’re waiting for us,” he urges, noting the state of duress I’m in.
“I need to take care of Claire,” I say, but that notion dies the second we bust open the van doors. Other cars have already stopped on the side of the road, getting out of their vehicles to check on us.
Fuck.
I can’t kill a woman in front of civilians, no matter how tempted I am.
Just as Jay and I crawl out, Claire emerges from the passenger side, a wild look on her face.
“Don’t you dare,” she hisses through her teeth. Red lipstick stains them, giving her a feral look.
“Or what?”
When she has no answer, I shoot her a wink just to get her asshole clenching from anger, and head towards the huge military-grade van waiting for me.
“Hey, man, you good?” a passerby asks.
“Yep, all good. Thanks for stopping,” I say over my shoulder. The bright headlights from his car highlight the incredulous look on his face as he watches me climb into the open doors.
Michael’s face greets me, and I nearly sigh in relief. If he’s alive, that means the little girl we saved from the ritual is, too.
He leans forward and helps me in, assumingly noticing the agony painted on my face. I can feel my scars tightening, now incapable of concealing the misery. My poker face has cracked.
I’m ready to let Jesus take the wheel. The second I collapse on the bench, Michael pounds once on the wall, and we take off.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” Jay says, glancing at me with concern. “A bomb went off, and Zade was within range of the blast.”
“Why the fuck did they set off a bomb?” Michael asks.
“My guess is it was one of the self-destruct bombs, implanted specifically to destroy all evidence and anyone inside. They’re commonly in places with top-secret information in case they’re infiltrated or compromised.”
I grunt. “We’ll have to check in with who was impacted by the explosion and make sure none of ours were killed.”
Jay nods, and I turn my attention to Michael. “You get the girl out safely?”