Purge is at my side in a blink. “Let me see,” he urges.
I remove my hand, and he confirms, “It’s just a shallow cut. It's already slowing down.”
“Thanks,” I tell him.
I switch places with Sam again, moving back to Matthew's side and not saying another word as I bring my knife down in an arc, deftly slitting his throat. Blood sprays everywhere. It spurts out with each heartbeat, until he crumples to the bed. Dead.
Sam takes my cue, violently stabbing Betty, repeatedly, with a roar. He keeps going until she’s an unrecognizable pulp.
Purge calmly goes to Sam’s side. “It’s okay, man, she’s dead. It's over.”
Sam sobs, dropping the knife, and throws himself into my arms. We cling to each other, cleansing ourselves of the past, and of their hold on us.
After a few minutes, Purge tells us we need to go.
I look back once, humming in satisfaction.
Good riddance to two evil assholes.
Purge
I cringe knowing the shitstorm coming once the others catch wind of what I just helped Iskra and my brother, Sam, do.
It's still so weird that I have a half-brother, but I've warmed to the idea. Sam is a good guy. He loves Iskra too, which is a good thing.
I'm weary as we pull into the compound parking garage. Watching both Iskra and Sam be wounded in there almost took me down. Fear still pumps through my bloodstream. The thought of losing them both is too much for me to bear.
I take a breath as I concentrate on the here and now. My head is on a swivel, looking for anyone out here. It looks quiet—good.
It's really late, around three in the morning. I hope everyone is fast asleep.
I wake Iskra, who groggily raises her head from Sam’s shoulder. He looks at me and smiles.
“Thanks,” he says, and I nod.
I take Iskra’s hand as we let ourselves back inside. I walk them to their room, stopping outside the door. I check onboth their wounds, satisfied when I see Iskra’s cut is no longer bleeding, and Sam’s arm has also stopped bleeding.
I lean in to kiss Iskra goodnight—and that's when all hell breaks loose.
Her door is thrown open, seven of the others crowded inside. Harris steps forward, yelling at me.
“Where the hell were you three? Why are you covered in blood?”
“Please tell me you took them to Rage Out,” Razor almost pleads.
Synn grabs Iskra by her arms. “What the fuck did you do?” His face morphs as he spies her cut neck. “What...?”
My girl shoves him back a step. “It’s fine. Just a cut. And Sam is fine, too.”
The room is so crowded, there's barely any space to move.
“I don’t owe any of you an explanation. We were taking care of loose ends.”
“You killed the fucking Solomons, didn’t you?” Frost roars.
Ghost frowns, digging his nails into his skin.
Trikk pipes up, seemingly the only calm one of the bunch. “I don’t blame you one bit, Bambi. Or you, Sam. You deserved your retribution.”
