“You should be in the majors with a swing like that.”
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
I don’t turn, recognizing his gait long before he speaks a word. Brax stops next to the trench. “Which team do you think would draft you?”
“You’d better hurry your ass up, and not worry about my batting technique,” I retort.
There’s a pause, and he must have squatted down because his voice sounds closer and crisper the next time he speaks. “Don’t you worryabout me, little fox. Watching you run circles around this merry band of sickos is probably one of the best parts of my day.”
Cutting through the last of the skin attaching Griff’s head to his shoulders, I yank and turn before it gives way. Despite the sharpness of my blade, there are still chunks of flesh scattered amongst the blood, pooling at the base of the spiked pole, before being sucked into the tainted soil. If this were a fantasy novel, some curse would either have been lifted or cast at the blood offering.
“Then you need to reevaluate what constitutes ‘best,’” I offer, imagining hundreds of things that would make my day. My pussy clenches as if it’s raising its hand to answer the question or to say,“Pick me.”
Down, lady boner.
Needing a distraction, I hold Griff’s head in my palm, ignoring crimson running down my arm as I dig my gloved hand into the base of his skull, pondering which it would be.
Cast—definitely cast.
There’s no chance this sack of shit’s blood could ever lift any curse. Especially not after everything he’s done. The way he killed my?—
Don’t!
The command roars, stopping all thoughts from going back to that night.
Tonight’s about justice—it’s about vengeance and restitution.
Clenching my teeth, I sneer under my mask, giving Griff a final look before I chuck his head out of the pit. Then, I grip the exposed rock, using it for leverage as I kick forward, lodging my toe into the dirt wall of the ditch.
I’m nearly to the top when hands wrap around my forearm and pull me up until we’re chest to chest. Well, as chest to chest as one can be with someone almost a foot taller than me.
Sparks shoot up, down, and everywhere at our closeness. The frenetic beat of my heart thumps so loudly I swear he can hear it.
“Me too, little fox. Me too,” he murmurs, and I’m grateful for my mask as I’m about as red as one can get.
The growl in Brax’s voice is enough to make my knees give out. It’s deep and raspy, and each inflection is like a flick to my clit.
Fuck, he’s unnerving me.
His left hand grips my waist with a possessiveness that feels like home, while his right hand travels down my back in a caress that feels like it belongs only behind closed doors. A swirl of emotions batter at my chest—unfamiliar and unwanted, unfurling like a feline stretches before a nap.
I don’t do feelings—especially not thesefeelings.
Give me anger, rage, and three sides of chip on my shoulder. These are the only things I want to feel.
Horny—you can’t forget the horny, bitch.
Snorting, I savor my sassy ass thoughts before pulling away from the cesspool of emotions Brax is trying to drown me in.
Refusing to be distracted, I step out of his reach and mutter, “Thank you.” Then, I scoop Griff’s head up, tossing it in my duffel before hightailing it as far from Brax as I possibly can.
“You can run, little fox, but you can’t hide—not fromme…not fromthis… from us.” His laughter lingers, niggling in my ear like a gnat that refuses to die.
I’m just outside the perimeter of the Gordons’ property when I slow to a jog until I ultimately stop.
“Where the fuck did Griff go?” a voice I’d recognize in any state barks as I climb the tree.
“That idiot is probably fucking whichever whore he got until he kills her too,” Fredrick states.
