“I’m not going to be nice about it, either.” He transfers my wrists to one of his hands, and uses the other to reach down and wrench up my leg, pinning it to his waist. He fumbles awkwardly at his pants… and his grip on my wrists falters.
That’s the only opening I need.
I free one of my hands, slap it against my collar bone, and press hard. Just below the bone, a searing, tearing pain radiates through my skin. My flesh is already angry, mottled, and tender from what I’ve done, making the extraction a million times more painful than the insertion.
The pain doesn’t deter me—itinvigoratesme. I reach beneath my shirt at the same moment I kick out my leg, successfully flattening Dagon against the door and buying myself just a second. There’s commotion in the passenger seat, but the soldier is too late.
My fingers wrap around the sharp end of the blade I stole from Max’s shaving razor and sewed into myself with some floss. I readjust my grip on it and tear it loose, gritting my teeth against the agony of my skin roughly splitting apart, and lurch forward.
I swing my arm outward and slash the razor across the eyeball of the soldier in the passenger seat, who’s grabbing for his gun. He recoilswith a resounding shout of pain, but the noise brings me no real satisfaction.
In an instant, I launch myself at Dagon. Then,I’mthe one pinninghimto the door, straddlinghim,with the razor at his neck.
“Viper,” he says, the word sounding breathless. For the first time since I’ve met him, I think I see admiration in his deadened eyes.
I push the razor deep into his neck, holding his gaze. Then, I slowly drag it across his flesh, taking my time and reveling in the way his eyes widen with shock. His lips part around a cough that sends blood splattering on my cheek. Another, wetter hack comes when I finally cut through his jugular.
No sooner does the blade come out the other side of his neck, leaving the gaping flap of horrific skin wide open, does an impossibly hard impact slam into the side of the car.
Glass shatters and splinters. I’m sent hurling into the door, right over Dagon’s body, then slamming back on the opposite door. The breath gusts out of me, and I feel two of my ribs crack beneath the pressure.
The car crash is harsh. The SUV is sent toppling over itself, rolling again and again, sending me flying around the interior like a ping-pong ball.
As suddenly and horribly as it started, it ends. I’m left splayed on the seat, agony radiating through me from multiple injuries, with Dagon’s cooling corpse on top of me.
I can hardly breathe. I think one of my lungs is about to collapse. I’m reasonably certain I’m going to die if I don’t get medical attention—which would end this story exactly how I planned.
Only, I expected to slice my wrists after cutting Dagon’s neck. A quicker, less painful death than fading away from countless internal injuries.
Dimly, I hear bullets flying outside the car. Doors opening and closing. Men shouting. I wait for my shallow breaths to come to an end, and to be done with this wretched world already.
That pain doesn’t come. Instead, a car door opens, and someone grabs my shoulders, dragging me out. I glimpse the harsh panes of Greyson’s face. He lowers me to the ground with surprising gentleness, and looks over me with a deep furrow between his brows.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “This is—”
“He’s dead!”Cain shouts. Through blurry eyes, I see him round the car. He’s holding a gun, trembling with rage, looking like he’s on the verge of a total mental breakdown. “Youkilled him!” he shouts at me accusingly, lifting the gun and pointing it at my head.
Ah.Dagon was his only source of information on Azalea, which is now lost.
Well. I guess he shouldn’t have been so quick to give me up—and he should’ve assumed that I’d make my own plans.
“Don’t!” Another male voice shouts, and thenMaximustakes out Cain from the side. The two of them crash to the ground, and a vicious fistfight commences.
“We don’t have the fucking time for this!” Greyson shouts. “She’sdying!We need to get Ember to a hospital!”
“Let her die,”Cain hisses.
So, he’s actually lost his mind. If he were being even a touch analytical right now, he’d know that I’m his best bet at getting Azalea back, since I know every location where Dagon takes people to torture them—including the ones he thinks he’s kept from me.
Just as well, really. I wouldn’t mind spiting Cain with my death.
“Fuck—her pulse—” Greyson’s fingers are on my neck. I see a blur of motion, and then Max is beside me. He leans over me, just as aroaring tsunami of darkness descends upon me, and my eyes roll into the back of my head.
The last thing I hear is his shout. “Don’t you fucking dare leave me!”
Chapter Forty-Two
Max
