He lifts a single brow. “I don’t.”
I drop my arms. The pink sweatpants absorb the slap of frustration of my hands against my thighs. “You can’t torture him.”
His death-glare slices me, but I remain unmoving. “Get out of my way, Kerri.”
“No.”
Havoc’s nostrils flare. He pauses for a moment. I can almost see his brain working as he fights for patience. “Move, or I’ll move you.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You can’t go around hurting strangers.”
A muscle clenches in his jaw, then he grinds out, “Did you forget we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere? Trust me, this piece of shit”—he jerks his head to motion at the man as if he’s nothing more than baggage—“came here to kill us.”
I note the man’s tactical clothing and a knot coils in my stomach “He could be a hunter.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re ridiculous.
The only thing this man looks like he’s hunting is…us.
With one arm wrapped around the man’s body, Havoc uses his other to pull a handgun from the back of his waistband. “Yeah, okay. With this?”
I don’t want us to be found yet. Not yet. I’m not ready to return to reality. “No, but…”
“Duchess, don’t make me move you.” Havoc practically growls the warning at me.
I take a moment—one moment—for logic to kick in and move aside and let Havoc by. “What are you going to do to him?”
“Whatever’s necessary.” Havoc drops the man at the threshold of the basement. I hold my breath, and I swear to God, every part of me cringes when he nudges the man down the stairs with the toe of his boot. I squeeze my eyes closed and listen as he skids to the bottom of the stairs, landing with a sickening thud. “Want to watch me work, Duchess?”
I shake my head and ease back from the doorway. “I don’t appreciate your snide tone.”
He narrows those angry, brown eyes on me. “I don’t appreciate you trying to be my fucking conscience.”
Notching my chin, I show him I won’t let him intimidate me. “Someone has to be.”
Unfortunately, Havoc is better at this game than me. He’s bigger, meaner, and dangerous—and that makes him far more formidable. “Don’t bother.” He takes my chin in his callused hand. “To have a conscience, you need a soul. I lost mine a long time ago.”
Havoc brushes his lips across mine. Not gentle. Not sweet. A kiss to seal his oath to protect me from himself. From the evil that lives inside him. As if I hadn’t opened my arms and embraced his depraved glory.
He breaks the kiss, and I take one more step back, mainly because it’s difficult to catch my breath with Havoc standing only inches from me. “You’re probably right.”
Havoc’s brows lift at my admission. “About what?”
I worry my hands, with my stomach twisted in a painful knot. “About that man. He’s probably here to kill us.”
Havoc’s mouth—his beautiful mouth—twists into a smug grin. “No shit.”
Dread coils the knot tighter. “How could he have found us?”
“That’s what I’m about to find out.” Havoc heads down the basement stairs. “No matter what you hear, you don’t come down here. Understood?”
“Understood,” I whisper, my voice brittle with fear.
Because our time just ran out.
As I watch Havoc disappear into the dark, I want to chase after him. Join in making that man accountable for the bullet in my father’s head. But I don’t. I’m not vindictive. Or bloodthirsty. I’m…plain old Kerri Ann Ward from Brighton, Pennsylvania.
I’m not some big, bad Unholy.
