Sila shoved bay back against the hood of the car. “Stay out of the way, baby. Only one who gets to mark you up is me.”
A burly man at the right dove forward, making the first move, and Sila rushed into the attack. He caught the swinging fist and twisted, his strength easily overpowering the older guy. The way he moved was almost too quick for Bay’s gaze to follow, and he watched wide-eyed as Sila practically danced around their attackers.
He had one on his knees and another’s skull shattering the glass of the driver’s side window in a second. Then he absently reached out and tore a jagged shard of glass at least six inches long from the frame and slowly advanced on the remaining two Shepards.
“This is pathetic,” he said. “No wonder you lot aren’t considered in the same league as the Brumal.”
The guy to his right roared and tried to kick him, but Sila caught him by the ankle and tugged.
Swiping the sharp edge of the glass across the back of his ankle, Sila dropped the now howling man and grinned wickedly. “Achilles tendon,” he noted. “Vital anatomy is similar to my own.”
The last standing Shepard landed a blow to the side of Sila’s jaw while he was distracted, but all it did was force his head to the side sharply.
Sila’s tongue poked out, licking at the droplet of blood at the corner of his mouth before setting his intense gaze on the guy who’d hit him. There was a spark of something bright and almost gleeful that was unmistakable in his mismatched eyes, and it finally seemed like the others took notice.
The Shepard retreated a few steps.
Bay watched Sila stalk him to the end of their car, but no further, because in the next instant Haroon was yanking him off the hood and tossing him over the railing. The metal guardrail separated the walkway on the side of the bridge from the road itself and Bay hit the concrete on his knees, hard. He’d only just manage to climb to his feet when he was grabbed again, this time pulled over to the edge of the bridge.
It was too high for Haroon to force him up and over it, but he tried, attempting to lift a struggling Bay.
“Your grandmother was such a sucker,” Haroon told him, laughing as he fought and captured Bay’s wrists. “All I had to do was smile and act like you and I were best friends and she let me right in. When I offered to make tea for her? She ate that shit up. Rich people are so stupid, thinking their money will protect them.”
“You didn’t have to kill her!” Bay yelled, thinking about how he’d found her that day, lifeless and lying on the floor. Like trash.
“Of course I did,” he snarled. “How else was I going to get her thumbprint on the paperwork? The scanner only tests to be sure the signee is still breathing when they apply their signature and print. I drugged her with something that would have her out of it enough she’d believe me when I said it was a school form she needed to sign on your behalf. Then all I had to do was walk out of there.”
Was he implying…
“You didn’t even wait to make sure she died?”
“What? Mad she was alone in her final moments?” Haroon scoffed. “Enough. Why am I even telling you this?” He pulled back and slammed a fist into Bay’s stomach.
He heaved and caved in on himself, the pain shooting through him—and not in a pleasurable way. Tears stung the corners of his eyes and he wobbled on his feet, forced back up when Haroon grabbed a fistful of his hair.
“You did all of that just for her money?” Bay demanded. “Why?”
“You mean why you? Why your grandmother? Your house?” Haroon shrugged. “Picked it at random honestly.”
Something in Bay broke at that and he let out a wounded sound that seemed to echo into the dark night. His grandmother, the kindest person he’d ever known, had been murdered and for what? No reason other than she’d been unlucky? It shouldn’t make a difference, shouldn’t make it worse, and yet, knowing it’d been a pointless crime did.
It also made Bay livid, unlocking a fury within him he wasn’t aware he was capable of feeling, not even before he’d suffered from emotional detachment. From over Haroon’s shoulder, he registered Sila heading toward them, and without stopping to consider what he was about to do, Bay worked a leg between him and his attacker and kicked with all his might.
He cried out as strands of hair were ripped from his scalp, but couldn’t take his eyes off of Haroon who stumbled backward a single step.
It was enough.
Within a flash, Sila was there, right behind Haroon, catching him with a single arm around the waist. The other lifted, the crimson covered shard of glass in his hold winking in the vibrant bridge lights a split second before he swiped it across Haroon’s throat.
Red spurted, splattering over Bay’s face, and the smell of copper permeated the air.
Haroon gurgled and desperately clutched at his neck, falling in a heap when Sila released him.
Bay watched as the blood pooled around him and he eventually stilled.
When he finally tore his gaze off and looked back up at Sila, what he saw took his breath away.
Sila was watching him back, arms down at his side, blood smeared up his arms and over his cheeks, hair wild and windswept.
