It didn’t help. The blood just smeared. She reached down and lifted the edge of her…dress? She was wearing a dress? Why? Her usual uniform consisted of freshly pressed slacks and a prim button-down shirt.
Well, whatever,she thought, impatient now. Impatient to clear her vision and see what it was she’d gotten herself into. Impatient to figure out how to get herselfout.
Her eyeballs stung from the vigorous scrubbing she gave them, but eventually her vision cleared enough for her to lift her head and look around.
The scene that met her fuzzy, searching gaze was…
Carnage.
That was the only word for it.
There were bodies. Blood.Death.
My guys!her anguished brain screamed.
But no sooner had the words echoed in her pounding skull than she knew her mistake.
The corpses strewn about didn’t belong to the men she’d grown to know and love like family. This wasn’t the floor of Black Knights Inc.
Relief rushed through her with enough strength to make her dizzy as she blinked at the awful scene. Blinked again. Blinked a third time because she couldn’t fathom it. Couldn’t wrap her head around the truth of the bloodbath even though she wasn’tunfamiliar with the sight.
As the link between the Black Knights and the leader of the free world, she was often tasked with putting together mission reports that included images of gore and destruction. But it was one thing to see bloodshed shining out at her from a digital display. And another thing entirely to witness its reality.
With a macabre sort of fascination, she watched the pool of blood beneath a body ooze ever larger, heard the gruesome quiet that accompanied the end of life, smelled the stomach-turning scents of piss and shit. As if death wasn’t demeaning enough, it had to go and make things worse by loosening the bladders and bowels of the people it’d come to claim.
“My god,” she breathed, one shaky hand lifting to the locket around her neck. The feel of the cool metal acted as a catalyst, a cold, hard shock to her system. And, suddenly, it all came screaming back.
The cocktail party hosted by Charlie’s father at his impressive Lincoln Park mansion. The milling around of a dozen smartly dressed people on the large flagstones covering the back patio. The soft sounds of jazz piped through the outdoor speakers.
The moment Charlie pulled her aside to propose. The sweaty chef who walked onto the patio carrying an evil-looking machine gun instead of a tray of tasty treats. The look of horror and determination on Charlie’s face right before he’d launched himself at her.
Charlie!
Her head whipped around to find her worst fear realized.
Hehad been the thing pinning her to the ground. It’d been his big, strong body that’d shielded her from the gunman’s murderous melee. Now he lay on his side, his baby-blue tie stained crimson with blood. His handsome face…gone.
Just…gone.
In its place was gristle and meat and?—
Her gorge rose, but she swallowed it down as she scrambled over and pressed her fingers to the side of his neck despite knowing her efforts were futile. No one could live after losing that much blood. After losing that much of theirface.
When no telltalethudrose up to meet her searching fingertips, she could no longer hold back the contents of her stomach.
She managed to crawl a few feet away before she retched convulsively onto the large, gray flagstones. Her vomit smelled of champagne and stomach bile. The instant the awful combination hit her nostrils, her gag reflex went full send.
She puked again.
And again.
Heaved until her throat ached and her stomach cramped.
Only when there was nothing left to bring up did she sit back on her heels, exhausted. Choking on her tears. Unable to catch her breath because her rib cage had become a vice around her lungs.
Oh, Charlie…
She couldn’t comprehend that one second he’d been slipping a ring onto her finger and the next he’d been killed.
