Adam (The Savages #2)

Epigraph

Adak Island, Alaska — Eight years ago

There are too many of them.

I can hear them gathering outside, filling the hallway beyond the filthy, abandoned room.

The only thing I smell is blood. It’s soaked into my clothes, my skin, crusted beneath my nails.

I lift my head and inhale deep, savoring the silence, my lungs burning.

This is the part I enjoy. The pause before the chaos. The anarchy. The moment where they’re still breathing and don’t realize how fucking temporary that is.

Rocking on my heels, I let my heart slow and a grin settle across my face.

The door rattles. The walls listen.

I roll my shoulders, no weapons left in my hands.

I bounce once on my toes.

I’ve always liked a challenge. Worst case, it gets really interesting.

Someone kicks the door in. They spread around me, circling like lazy fuckin’ vultures, knives and scrap metal glinting in their hands.

“There you are, doll face,” one of them says with a smirk.

Finally.

I’m done holding back.

“Took you long enough.”

“Out of toys already, Bane?”

The name hits something deep. That low, crawling heat starts to rise in my gut. Something stirs hungrily. About time.

A fist slams into my face before I can answer. My head snaps to the side.

“Not so tough now, huh?” he spits, swinging again.

His fist cracks against my jaw.

The taste of metal spreads across my tongue.

He leans in, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. “This it? This is the big bad Bane everyone pisses themselves over?” He laughs. “You look like a kicked dog.”

His knuckles grind into my cheek. “You hear me? You’re fucking nothing. I don’t see a monster. I see a clown in a broken mask.”

Then he shoves me to the ground.

“Where’s your rage now, huh? Where’s that sickness? Buried too deep to save you?”

My teeth grind.

The rhythm of my heartbeat changes. Everything around me fades a little, the world pulling back to make room for something else.

My skin doesn’t feel like it fits anymore.

I lift my gaze, blood thick in my mouth, eyes locking on his.

Slowly, I push myself to my feet and spit it onto the floor.

“Bane,” I whisper.

A hum slips out of my throat before the words can, threading a melody people mumble under their breath, like they know what it means.

It wavers, climbs, stutters, fighting its way free. My head tilts to the side, loose, disconnected from the rest of me.

The hum vibrates in my chest for a second longer.

“Bane, Bane, every mouth knows my name,

Say it again till the walls do the same.

No god will stop what I will do.

… I am Bane and I’m coming for you.”