Page 37 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

Gunshots bounce off the walls, and I instinctively flinch at the sound.

Another grunt followed by a thud.

I tighten the muscles in my neck and force my head back to get a look at the man barreling toward me like a goddamn Mack truck. I want to knock him out for leaving Dylan somewhere alone, but I’m happy to see the bastard.

Pyro skitters out of the way as, without a silent second of shock, the massive figure goes straight for my chains, firing four bullets. I drop to the sopping concrete, my freed palms splashing the water.

Footsteps fade across the floor, and Jörgen turns toward Pyro who heads for the door.

“Jörgen, no! Leave him. Let him go.”

Pushing to my feet, I lurch forward, but the room pulls a tilt-a-whirl and the world flicks to blackness.

I slap a trembling hand to my face to shield the pain that threatens to pull me under any moment. “Fuck!” The rage inside of me explodes, and I swing out, taking out the IV pole that smacks against the floor, tugging at the tubes in my arms. Ripping the tape off, I pull the needle out of my veins, slapping a hand to my bleeding arm as a roar of agony beats through my chest.

“I’m sorry.” Jörgen keeps his head bowed. “I failed.”

The pain travels to my gut, like tiny shards of glass rolling around, tearing me up from the inside. I’ve been beaten, tortured and left for dead, but nothing comes close to this agony.

“I should’ve killed him. I should’ve let you gun him down.” I’ve never shed a single tear for anyone in my life. Not even my mother, but the despair that bursts inside of me, consumes me. “Kill me, Jörgen.”

“I will not.”

“Then get the fuck out.”

“I’ll talk to the Agency,” he says, ignoring me. “Tell them you were taken and injured. It’ll buy you time.” He rubs his hands together before resting them atop his thighs and pushes to a stand. “I’ll take care of Marchetti. I’ll finish him.”

“Are you certain she was in that car?” I say past clenched teeth.

Jörgen bows his head, brows pleating with a frown. “I told her to stay there. To wait for us. She’s dead because of me. Sorry isn’t enough. She shouldn’t have been there.”

“No.” I can barely speak past my hoarse voice. “This is my fault. I should’ve let her go a long time ago.” A thousand scenarios flip through my mind, and I lift my gaze to his where the anguish in his tired eyes tells me my words offer him no relief.

A dark and wicked sensation crawls up my spine—one I haven’t felt in a long time, like the rotted corpse of an old friend rising up from the grave. Gaze leveled on Jörgen, I let it spill into my veins, pumping its sinister plan to every corner of my soul and grind my teeth as its thirst for blood becomes known. I need to hunt something. Hurt something. Kill it.

I need him to leave so my mind can succumb to it, and in turn, carry out its punishment. I want to bathe in the violence of my revenge.

“I’ll finish Marchetti,” I say. “Then Pyro. I’ll finish them all.”

20

Dylan

Life is cause and pain is the effect.

I realize this as I watch the City Canine Rescue lady’s gaze fall from mine, lips tight with remorse. “Someone’s adopted her.” Only a couple weeks ago, the same woman had told me Charlie was safe and waiting for me. “It happened a couple days ago. I’m sorry we had no way to get in touch with you.”

I stare back at the woman, across the countertop that separates us and my gaze darts to one of the caretakers behind her, as if she’ll tell me anything different. The cold sensation in my limbs tells me my body is falling into shock. “But you … you said you’d hold her. Until I came for her. I’m here now. Things are better and I’m here now.”

“I said I’d hold her … unless she was adopted before then. I’m truly sorry.”

“Can I at least ask who adopted her?”

Her eyes are sympathetic, but she shakes her head, and even though I know it’s not her fault, I want to smack her. No, I want to leap across the counter and strangle her until the pain of what’s moving through my head right now stares back at me in the blue hue of her oxygen-deprived face. “We’re not permitted to give out that information.”

Maybe she sees it in me—the glint of crazy that tells her I’d hunt the person down and steal my dog back.

“We have other dogs desperately in need of homes. Good dogs.”