I hold back.
As my eyes adapt, shapes begin to form.
The framework of a kitchen, the island, cabinets, and the stainless steel of the appliances, catching the faintest edge of ambient light.
The blueprint replays in my head as I move to where we last saw him.
My ears prick up, I hear footsteps. Bare feet touching the tile.
I stop and flatten myself against the nearest wall, melting into the shadows.
He’s coming this way.
My stomach drops as my pulse levels out instead of kicking into overdrive.
I shift my weight to peek around the edge and see a bathroom just off the kitchen.
He dashes inside.
Not bothering to shut the door or turn on the light, he fumbles at his waistband and pulls his dick out of his pants, and then a second later releases his bladder into the toilet. A low moan of relief escapes from him.
My eyes track across the room.
Cassidy.
She’s hunched behind the couch, balanced on the balls of her feet, she’s coiled, ready to strike.
Blade already out and in hand.
Her eyes find mine.
Charged with anticipation.
She runs her tongue along her bottom lip.
The stream cuts off.
He adjusts himself, scratching and tucking away as he flushes the toilet and doesn’t even bother to wash his hands.
I slide back into position, overseeing his movements as he shuffles out.
The abrupt impact, I see it before I hear it.
Cassidy drops to the floor with a solid thud, directly in his path. I move at the same time, watching.
Her long braid sways behind her with each motion.
He stumbles back, nearly losing his footing, terror and confusion crashes over his face.
“What the fuck! Who are you?!”
“The Reaper,” she booms, her voice full of delight as she laughs at herself.
I bite back a smile, using the doorframe to support me, arms folding across my chest as I observe the scene unfold.
She flips the blade through her fingers in a continuous movement. Deadly.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” he snaps, his voice splintering. “You crazy bit- “
