I couldn’t leave here to discuss it with him, though, not when Jonah might return at any moment and need me to be here for him.
With a sigh, I gave Reaper my current address. Later, I’d apologize to Roy for not asking him first. I’d tell him everything, and ifhe decided it was too much and kicked us out again, then I’d deal with that.
Reaper arrived much faster than I expected, and not alone. Toby was with him, shifting from foot to foot behind him, his eyes locked on the house next door. The two Strays I trusted and liked least.
Better get this over with. I turned and stalked toward the kitchen, and they followed.
“What’s this about a fire?” I asked as I fiddled with Roy’s coffee machine.
There was a sharp sensation in my lower back, pressure applied and then released. It sparked like electricity, a thousand tiny pinpoints that all caught flame until it was searing. When I reached for the area, my fingers came away wet.
“This isn’t what we fucking talked about, Reaper.” Toby’s panicked voice came from further in the room.
“I’m done talking.”
I stumbled as I turned to face them, my eyes dipping to the knife in his hand, red with blood. My blood.
He’d stabbed me.
Adrenaline unlike any I’d ever known released in my system like a bomb. My eyes darted to the dish rack. Reaper tracked it, and launched at me as I went for the chef’s knife.
Another surge of heat in my side, but then I had it. My blade swiped through the air, catching fabric as he barely dodged it. I knew I was fighting at a disadvantage. If I had any hope of coming out of this alive, I needed to overpower him, and I needed to do it quickly, before the blood loss and the pain slowed me down.
The searing pain in my back and side grew, molten heat spreading as I dove for him. More heat to my shoulder, but I got him this time, my steel coming away as wet as his.
“Fucking do something, Jackal, you worthless pieceof—”
I threw myself at him, the weight of my body sending us both to the ground, my knife in his bicep, his knife embedded in my thigh. That one hurt more. Still the fucker wouldn’t let it go. He wrenched it free, plunged it into the same spot, and I roared in agony.
Instinct propelled me back before he could do it again, but the shift gave him the upper hand and he swung his leg up. His knee collided with my burning, bleeding side.
I fought just to take air into my lungs as he knocked me sideways and followed closely, straddling me. There was a wet crunch as his knife carved through my flesh to grate against the bone in my forearm, and my hand spasmed. My blade clattered to the ground. Reaper grabbed it—tossed it behind him.
“You think you’re so fucking good, Coyote.” He panted above me, more light in his eyes now than I’d ever seen in them before. “Fucking slept your way to being Archer’s right-hand man. Jumping in to take his place the same day he goes missing. You think we’ll all follow you blindly? No, we don’t need you. I’ll lead the Strays, and I’ll make them stronger than you ever could.”
I should have listened to Jonah. Should have abandoned the Strays and left them to figure it all out on their own. Then I could’ve been with him. Only him. He was all that mattered, and now I was going to die because I’d hesitated.
“I don’t want the fucking Strays.” My eyes remained focused on the knife in his hand. My only hope now was to talk him out of the killing blow. “I never did. I was going to leave.”
“Lies from a coward,” Reaper sneered.
“Reaper.” Toby’s voice came from somewhere beyond my line of sight. Small and panicked.
“You’re done, Dex. Enjoy hell.” His blade rose, ready to plunge.
“Reaper!” Toby shrieked.
Then Reaper’s eyes went wide as his breath was knocked out of him. His body jolted once. Twice. Three times. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth and he fell forward, landing over me.
Only for a moment. The weight disappeared just as fast. His body was yanked to the side, and my rabbit was on him. With the chef’s knife in his hand, he plunged it into Reaper over and over.
fifty
Jonah - Past
LET ME GO.
There was no escaping what I’d done. Even if I had been able to run without my leg threatening to give way, no amount of fresh air and exercise would change the fact that I’d killed someone. Not just someone. I’d killed Dex’smom.
