I dig my knife into his stomach, and he snarls. Griff is no stranger to pain. He was Katerina’s only subject who wasn’t given the luxury of death before she began her work. But I know his scars like I know my own, and I just intentionally tore one of his open.
“Three seconds.”
He growls, his arms flexing like he’s bracing to fight me, so I tear another scar open, pulling a grimace from him. He may be bigger, but I’m both faster and more resourceful. After a minute, he shifts, moving off her, and my lungs expand as I release him, finally able to take a damn breath.
I keep my glare fixed on him until both her wrists and ankles come loose, then I flick my eyes to Raife when he strolls toward me. His suit shirt is partially untucked, and a red mark highlights his forehead from when he hit the edge of the dresser.
His steps are slow and carefree, making my blood boil beneath my skin. I grip my knife and envision slashing his fucking throat. Griff might have been the one on top of her, but he was the puppet. This was strategic. Meticulously planned to make Griff go off like the ticking time bomb he is. It’s the reason Raife is so easily able to pull his strings—Raife sees Griff’s weakness ignite before his eyes and soaks those flames in gasoline. I see mine and crush the flame between the tips of my fingers before it has the chance to take me down with it.
At least I did.
Beforeher.
A soft, feminine groan sounds beside me as Emmy pulls herself up, close enough the tips of her hair brush my fingers, and it takes all my goddamn willpower to keep from looking, touching, breathing her in.
When Raife reaches me, I lunge.
My forearm crushes his neck against the wall, my chest heaving as we stare each other down. The knife burns my palm, begging to be put to use. Raife sure as shit deserves it. In all the years we’ve known each other, all the bullshit we’ve been through, it’s never come down to this. I never thought it would.
But he crossed a motherfucking line today.
He doesn’t fight me. Of course not, this is what the asshole wanted. His brown eyes brim with life as he darts them between me and my knife. “That’s it, brother,” he croaks. “Don’t hold back.”
“So this is it?” My voice drips of the red hot ire burning inside me. “Your big fucking plan?”
He grunts against the pressure of my arm, then his lips curve. “We both know it’s already working. Don’t pretend you don’t think about it, hurting her. Just wait till,” he chokes, then tries again, “just wait till you see her now. She’s even more of a doppelganger when she’s marked in red.”
A snarl works its way up my throat, my fingers coiling around my knife. I’ve had enough of his manipulations for one night.
“Adam ...” My body stills at her soft voice rasping my name behind me. When she does it again, my shoulders constrict. “Please, Adam. Don’t listen to him.”
My chin jerks halfway toward her on its own, like she has some power over me I don’t fucking recall granting. Raife’s low chuckle pisses me off, so I drop my arm from his neck to elbow him deep in the gut. He curls forward, clutching his stomach and choking through coughs. I finally turn around to face her.
She’s still on the bed, but she’s scooted toward me. She sits on her knees, her ass on her heels, blue eyes wide and set on me with her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her hair is spilling over both shoulders, hiding her upper body in a wild mess of thick, black strands, and fuck my chest for lurching at the sight of her.
I grit my teeth. My pulse thrashes against my throat at the restraint it takes to keep from hauling her against me. But if I do, if I give in to the temptation—it will all be over. Once I turn it on, letting myself go, I don’t know if I’ll be able to turn it off again.
When she unbinds her arms from around her stomach to crawl toward me, slivers of crimson flash through her curtain of hair.
My jaw ticks, then I’m right in front her, wrapping her hair around my fist to reveal her body. She gasps and jerks back, and my gaze narrows on her bare stomach. My lungs compress.
One, two, three slashes, ranging from the size of my thumb to my middle finger.
Crimson rivulets dance from her waist past her belly button, some smeared across her hip bone.
Her pale skin blurs to a cloudy black and back again as my adrenaline pumps too fast to see straight. Temptation flares to life inside me, my muscles clenching with the compulsion to touch, to taste, to bite. I want it all. But something else stirs deeper, too. Something I’m far more accustomed to than temptation.
I thought I’d felt rage before. Now an inferno eats me alive.
With my shoulders heaving, I turn to Raife.
Still with his back against the wall, a grin stretches across his face. “There you are,” he whispers.
The edge of my knife is pressed against his neck before he can blink.
He made his choice. Now I’m making mine.
Before I can act, soft fingers run down my cheek, cup my jaw. My glare still leveled on Raife, a low growl rumbles through me as I try to process the warmth on my face. Raife’s eyes dance with amusement, and the inferno beneath my skin tries to crawl its way out.
