She blinks like she’s coming out of a dream…or a nightmare. Then she glances to the man disappearing into the dark. When she looks back at us, there’s a vicious glare in her eyes that does nefarious things to my cock.
“Stop him.”
I take off after the mugger at a sprint.
A second later, I hear footsteps drumming behind me.
We catch him seconds later as he tries to scale a droopy chain-link fence cordoning off the side of the embankment from the railway tracks to stop people trespassing. I grab the back of his jacket, Kai grabs his legs, and we pull him off the fence.
As soon as his back hits the ground, I plunge the knife into his stomach.
Again, not a fatal blow. Not by itself.
But the knife keeps rising and falling. In seconds, the mugger’s clothing is wet with blood. It clings to my hand and starts pooling in the ruins of his torso. Eventually, more than blood is glistening. Exposed skin, muscle, and fat shine obscenely even in the dark out here.
He stops yelling, but I’m not sure if that happens before or after the muscles in my arm are burning from exertion.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, tugging at me, but I shake it off and keep stabbing.
Haven’s voice finally brings me around. “Bastian, stop.”
I sit back on my heels, still gripping the knife in a white-knuckled hand.
Kai’s voice is strained. “What the fuck? What the fuck, Rooke? Are you—did you just—” He can’t seem to finish his sentence.
I turn to look at him.
He’s standing a foot away, chest heaving, staring at me like he’s never seen me before.
He hasn’t. Not really. Not before now.
Neither of them have.
Kai is pale and trembling, hair slicked to his forehead with sweat.
Haven looks…serene. She stares down at the motionless body with unfocused eyes, lips parted, her hands gently pressed to her stomach.
I expect her to throw up, or scream, or run. Kai clearly expects the same, because when she just stands there staring down at the body, he grabs her wrist.
“Hey, are you?—”
“I’m fine.” Her voice is hollow, but steady.
“You’renotfine!Noneof this is fine!” I can see his panic cresting. “How do you know this guy? What did he mean about?—”
“Kai.” Haven’s voice cuts through his panic, but he rallies a moment later.
“We have to call someone. We have to?—”
“We’re not calling anyone.” I slip the switchblade into my suit jacket and crouch beside the body, checking the pockets. Wallet, phone, several baggies of drugs. I take it all. “We’re going to dispose of him, and then we’re going to forget this ever happened.”
“Forget? How the fuck am I supposed to forget?—”
“Help me move him,” I say.
Kai chokes out a protest until Haven turns to him and cups his face. “You got this,” she murmurs.
Kai stares at her. “What the fuck is going on?”
