Page 130 of Shattered In Darkness

Her name still pulses behind my eyes. Lola. Lola.

I move forward. Reinforced steel door waits at the end, the guard window cracked. No one on the other side, though. Only shadows. I press my blood-soaked palm flat against the door. She’s in there. I know it. I want to claw the steel apart with my teeth. My brain is nothing but static, nothing but hunger.

Find her first. Kill Marcus after.

I load the shotgun, gripping the blade in my other hand. No more obstacles. No more time wasted.

She’s in there. She belongs to me. I will rip the world open to get her back.

I brace myself, shoulder to the door. Sweat runs down my neck, chills in the cold. The scene burns behind my eyes. I’m a missile. I’m a weapon. She is the only thing worth surviving for.

One more door. All I have left of love is annihilation. I let my body turn feral. I go in.

44

LOLA

I count the seconds since the screams stopped. Maybe it’s minutes. My perception of time is gone, trapped in this windowless box, the stink of piss and bleach, my own sweat turning cold on my skin.

My hands are shaking so hard I dig my nails into my thigh just to anchor myself. There’s a camera in one corner, a red light blinking. I stare at it and dare someone to come through the door.

I want it to end. I want to get out. I want to die, maybe, or kill someone with my bare hands if it means I can walk free.

The world tilts. The lights above me flicker, then surge on, harsher than before. I hear footsteps coming at a crashing pace. A body slams against the other side of my cell door.

Brody.

Blood is all over him, splashed up into his hair. His chest heaves, ribs visible even beneath layers of black. His eyes—fuck, his eyes—burn through the room. Unhinged, savage and alive.

For a second, I don’t think he recognizes me. His hands are curled into claws at his sides. His lips are peeled back from his teeth like an animal about to sink them in. The look on his face. Terror and violence, violence and violence, and then⁠—

He sees me. All at once, the rage flickers out, replaced by something hungrier: pure possession, worship, heat. He’s crossing the distance before I can draw breath like a hurricane intent on swallowing me.

He grabs me, pulls me up off the cot, and crushes me to his chest. His arms lock around me so tight I can’t move. Bone against bone, blood against skin.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m suffocating on the shock of him, on the drumming of his heart against mine. He’s real. He’s really here. I’m not hallucinating, not this time.

I choke on his name. “Brody—” It comes out a whimper, a gasp, part sob, part prayer. His body shakes against mine. “You’re here.”

He shakes his head, presses his cheek to my hair. Warm breath fans my ear. “Baby, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Every word is shredded, heavy with emotion. “I came back for you. I came back to kill these fuckers and save you. And to tell you I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for all the pain I caused you. I should’ve fucking listened.”

My legs go soft. I sag into his arms, pulse roaring so loud it drowns out the world. I’m dizzy with relief, with horror, with whatever acid is running through my veins right now.

I try to speak, but all that comes out is, “Thank you—oh my god, thank you—” I want to ask how, I want to ask if it’s over, if he’s hurt, if he even knows what he looks like right now.

The blood, the bruises, his lip split open, the wild light in his eyes like he’s been resurrected just to tear this building apart for me.

His hand comes up, thumb stroking my cheek. It’s gentle. Unbelievably gentle. The pad of his thumb smears away something wet from my skin. Blood, I realize, not mine.

He cradles my face in his palm, studies me like I’m a miracle. Then he shakes his head again. “No time, Bambi. We have to go.” His voice is fierce, a growl spat between clenched teeth.

He yanks me through the open door. Hell waits on the other side.

The hallway is lathered with blood, a river pooling down the walls and across the tile floor. Bodies everywhere. It's impossible to tell how many. Men are draped over each other, faces caved in, throats opened up from ear to ear. Eyes wide and glassy if their heads are still in one piece. Some of them leak red foam from between their teeth. Some are missing pieces. Black holes in their guts, exposed rope of something gray and pulsing, bone shards splintered through skin. Some skulls are so crushed in, they don’t even look human anymore.

The stink. Rot and copper so sour it makes me gag. Vomit crawls up my throat; I choke it down.

Brody keeps me close, one arm banded around my waist, body shielding me from god knows what else. Every inch of him is vibrating with tension. I feel the heat rolling off his skin.