But I don’t get far.
His hand fists in the back of my shirt and yanks me back, slamming me onto the bench.
“Fuck! Get us the fuck out of here!” someone yells. Tires squeal. Bullets hammer the sides of the vehicle.
I press my forehead to the freezing wall of the truck, gasping, trying not to choke on everything inside me.
My dad is gone.
My dad is dead.
And he—he—killed him.
“Have you been shot?” Priest grabs me again, shoving my shoulders back against the bench.
I don’t answer.
His hand moves to my face, fingers twisting in my hair, forcing my head to the side.
“Have you been fucking shot, Arlo?”
“Christ, Priest—you’re bleeding out,” someone behind him says.
I try to shove him off me, but the truck jolts and I slam into his chest. His hand presses against my ribs, forcing a scream.
“Bruised,” he mutters, eyes flicking to the blood slicking through my hair. “And a bullet graze to the head.”
Before I can move, his blood-wet hand wraps around my throat and yanks me closer. The strength in it is terrifying.
“Why didn’t you fucking stay with me? I told you to stay put!”
“You killed him!” The words rip out of me. “You killed my father—you killed everything!” I slam my fists into his chest, ignoring the fire ripping through my ribs. “I hope your father finds you. I hope he throws you in the same hell mine rotted in. I hope you die there, screaming.”
“Enough!”
He grabs my face, fingers digging into my cheeks until I wince. “He already fucking did that, Arlo. So shut your goddamn mouth before you make me remember what I am.”
I spit in his face, blood and saliva streak his jaw. He wipes it away with the back of his hand then slams me back into the bench, leaning over me.
“You fucking stabbed me! I’m trying to keep you alive, and you fucking stabbed me!”
“I’d do it again,” I hiss. “And next time, I won’t miss your heart.”
“Priest!” Arsen’s shout from the front of the truck barely cuts through. Priest’s hand curls into the seat beside my head, knuckles going white.
“Priest!” Arsen shouts again. “Get up here. Now!”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me with soulless black voids for eyes.
“Get off her!” Arsen’s voice is closer now. “We need you up front. We’re not going to make it if you don’t get your shit together.”
Still no movement. Priest’s breath is heavy. His shirt is soaked with blood from my knife wound.
“Goddamnit, Priest.”
Suddenly, Raze grabs his vest from behind and slams a fist into his shoulder.
“You’re bleeding the fuck out,” Raze barks. “And we’re going to fucking die unless you get your ass up front. Get it the fuck together.” He shoves a pack of gum hard into Priest’s chest. “Now.”
