I took heart in that—the water. It meant they weren’t leaving me here to die. On the other hand, it meant they had bigger plans for me, and only nine-year-old Willow’s rendition of Wonderwall stopped me fixating on that. My rainbow baby girl lulled me into a trance, strumming that first pink guitar with the nylon strings. Nicky playing on his Switch in the corner, headset on, uninterested in the world around him.
Logan was there too, a newborn twin on each arm. It wasn’t the right space in time for Nash and Orla. For Rocco and Ranger. For Folk. But I felt them all around me.
You’re just hungry, Locktipus.
All right. Maybe Rubi too.
And he wasn’t wrong. Hunger gnawed at my gut, and I felt weaker than ever. If it came down to fight or flight, I was running out of strength for either.
“Locke.”
I jerked awake to the sound of approaching footsteps—if I’d even been asleep, I couldn’t tell. Smacked my head on the wall for my fuckin’ trouble as I flailed to find Viktor in the dark.
For the second time in as many—what? Days? Weeks? I had no fuckin’ clue—I didn’t find him. I was alone, and this was it. Couldn’t say how I knew it. But I did.
I staggered to my feet, using that damn meat hook for support, clinging to the violence I’d brought into this room with me, Priest’s last words to me echoing in my dazed head.
“Before I go find your pretty daughter to cheer me up.”
No.
Even if it was the end of me, this cunt had to fuckin’ die.
Flattening my back to the wall, I rooted my feet to the floor, ignoring the black spots clouding my vision.
A door burst open.
Not mine.
Low voices, a sick laugh.
A shout of alarm before a gunshot rang out, ricocheting so close and so loud my fuckin’ eardrum popped.
Damn.
Damn.
That shit hurt.
I doubled over, palm pressed to the side of my head, gaze fixed on the door, willing the world to stop spinning before the dipshit army came pouring in.
Another gunshot rang out.
A scream.
Then the door to my makeshift cell cracked open, shadow turning to light, growing bigger like a blaze gaining strength from the wind, framing the lone figure that breached the doorway.
Just one.
Priest?
As the possibility took hold, something inside me relaxed, a stark contrast to my clenched fists and bunched muscles. Even if that cunt had a gun, I could take him if I moved fast enough. I couldkillhim and, fuck me, I wanted to.
I wanted to kill himnow.
The figure in the door stepped forward, weapon raised. I clenched my screaming muscles and steeled myself for the mad rush, for a fight to the death, but instead of bad teeth, straggly hair, and the shittest tattoos known to man, I surged forward and found myself face to face withViktor.
Fuck!We reared back in the same moment, a split second separating me from piling on top of the gun and him pulling the trigger.
