When they started running again, I ran after them, my footsteps quiet and quick. I could see them—him sprinting between the trees. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt, a black beanie, jeans. His gun was in his hand.
He glanced back, and I saw the fear in his eyes before he turned back. “Fuck,” he said and started reaching for something in his pocket.
I pushed myself, watching as he pulled out a phone. A hired gun then.
“He’s on top of me,” I heard him gasp. A second later, he tossed the phone and tried to run faster only for his foot to catch on a root.
I slowed as he ate shit, the gun flying from his grip. Fucking idiot.
He scrambled onto his back as I slowed to a walk, stalking up to him, my breathing only slightly labored. “Please,” he begged, holding up his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
I stopped above him, pointing the gun at his head. It was almost sad how easy this had been. “I ask this out of courtesy. Who was on the phone?”
“He didn’t give me a name,” he rushed, shaking his head. “He was Russian, hired me because my cousin vouched for me. I needed the money, man, I’m sorry, please. I won’t say a word, I won’t—”
I put a bullet between his eyes, the sound echoing around us, silence falling seconds later. I didn’t have the patience to cut him apart. He hurt my fucking girl.
But I couldn’t believe there was cell service up here—
A sharp pain erupted in the side of my skull, stars dancing across my vision.
Fucking son of abitch.
I spun around, the world spinning, warmth dripping down the side of my head.
The guy that stood before me was shorter than the one I had just shot.
His eyes widened as if he hadn’t expected me to remain standing after that. He looked at the gun in his hand and back, the panic clear in his eyes. “I—”
I pulled the trigger, putting one in his stomach without hesitation.
He grunted, his gun falling to the ground as he clutched the wound, the blood spreading across his shirt. “Fuck,” he moaned, falling to his knees. “I’m sorry,” he whined. “I’m sorry. It was just a job, I’m sorry.”
I walked up to him, pressing the barrel against his head, forcing his eyes up. “Do you know the name?”
He swallowed, his face already paling. “Del—Delepski,” he grunted. “Please. Please don’t do this, I’ve got kids.”
My lip curled, the rage in my gut growing. “You should have thought about them before making that deal.” I pulled the trigger, watching him fall to the ground.
I grabbed the side of my head, slowly looking around the woods, my head pounding. Fuck me, that was going to hurt for a while.
When I was sure there was nobody else around, I pulled out my phone and called Evelyn.
“You’re not getting out of it,” she hummed. “Teach her how to fire a weapon and then we’ll go from there.”
“It’s fucking Delepski,” I said, turning back towards the clearing.
Evelyn was quiet a second. “What is?”
“The people following her. It’s the Delepski’s.”
There was a sharp crack and then silence before the sound ofa door slamming found my ears a second later. “What the fuck? They followed us back here?” I pulled my hand away from my head, inspecting the blood coating the heel of my hand. “Why are they after Olivia? We’re the ones who threatened them. Why her?”
I adjusted my grip on the gun. “We’ve got a name, Evie, figure it out.” I hung up the phone, a snarl ripping from my lips. The message we had left them obviously wasn’t clear enough. Fine, but the mistake they made would come at a heavy fucking price.
It took me only 15 minutes to walk back to the clearing. Crossing it, I headed straight for the trees I told her to run into. I kept my steps silent, keeping my gun in my hand as I strained my hearing to listen for her.
For her breathing.
