Chapter 16
Iturn my back, glancing down at the street then across to the large glass windows, ensuring I didn’t attract any unwanted attention.
Still, it’s a chance I took, knowing that a little compelling wouldn’t hurt any humans if necessary.
I’ll likely be punished big time by Lowell for shooting the heir to the Jade Order.
I no longer hear Crew rustling, so I assume he has left or passed out—either is fine. Shooting him felt good, and I’d like to do it again. I laugh to myself, feeling the rattling sensation still moving through my arm.
Although I didn’t kill him.
Yet.
Instead, I purposefully aimed for his shoulder, ensuring the bullet would miss all vital parts, including arteries, but I made sure it would hurt. As a demon, I assume he will heal quickly, as angels do, but hopefully not.
Pride rushes through me, and I can’t help but plaster a wide smile across my face, truly like a madwoman.
As angry as I am at their secrets, I can’t wait to tell Talon and Shaw about this; I’m giddy thinking about their faces.
I look across the street to find Lewis still at the bar, laughing and downing alcohol as if it’s his last night on earth—fortunately for him.
I begin to assess my gun when a force spins me around, pressing my lower back firmly against the building’s edge.
The smoking gun falls from my hand and clangs to the ground a few steps away.
Crew’s large hand quickly leaves my shoulder and wraps around my neck, squeezing faster than I have time to react.
The air becomes trapped in my throat, and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, but I remain calm.
“You are the one with the goddamn death wish, Castten,” Crew’s voice echoes.
I choke a laugh against his hold. “Oh, did I make the little demon mad?”
Rage causes flames to dance in Crew’s silver eyes, making them appear like a crimson moon burrowing into my gaze. With his hand still on my throat, I feel the familiar cold metal of a gun press against my temple. He shoves the barrel into my head, causing pain to move down into my jaw.
“Did that hurt?” I smile, glancing at the wound.
“Convince me not to put a bullet in your fucking skull.” Crew grinds his teeth in my face.
I laugh wildly, letting the pain contort my face to madness.
He narrows his eyes, pressing the gun harder into my head. “Give me one reason why you should live.”
“Who’s grumpy now?” I barely mutter, taunting him like he has me. “I gave you like four or five warnings, to be fair.”
His large hand wraps tighter around my neck, and my heart begins to thunder. I open my mouth to speak, but the words get trapped.
“I lost… count,” I smile. “This is actually… your… fault.”
My mind travels back to the assessment: Crew with his hand wrapped around my throat.
Instead of being in the Lyre Order, this is real.
This is happening, and I can feel myself moments away from passing out.
But I don’t feel fear as I thought I would.
I feel pride in having done what I said I would.
Except I didn’t kill him, and I can’t wrap my head around why.
Crew pushes the cold barrel firmer into my temple, and pain radiates through my forehead.
I shake my head, unable to speak as his hand tightens around my throat.
Tears well in my eyes, but it’s not because of emotions; it’s the lack of oxygen.
My eyes quickly pan to his neck—to the butterfly tattoo inked on his skin—then to the already-healing wound in his shoulder.
A tear rolls down my cheek, and I gasp for air, but Crew doesn’t loosen his hold as he watches me struggle.
“Are you afraid, angel?” Crew’s eyes darken.
Panic rises, flaring my senses to react, and I make a plan.
In a split-second decision, I swiftly lift my nearly numb arm and ram my finger into the still-healing sensitive spot, causing another groan to escape his lips. Blood coats my hand, and he shouts.
“God damnit.”
His hand loosens around my throat, and I turn my body away from him, rolling to the side as he clutches his shoulder. As quickly as I get away, he is faster, pointing the dark metal weapon back at me, now aimed between my eyes from just a few steps away.
“Tell me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” he rages.
I don’t respond, letting the stinging air fill my lungs.
“Speak,” Crew shouts, and a demonic voice leaves his lips. “Or I promise I’ll fire back, little angel.”
I gasp, clutching my throat to check for any injury. My limbs tingle, and I cough from the sudden air intake. Crew remains still, waiting for my response while giving me time to stand up slowly.
I cough once more. “I… don’t have one.”
He narrows his eyes, stepping closer. “What did you say?”
“I can’t give you a reason why I should live, Bannermin.”
He leans forward, his towering figure casting a shadow over me. As Crew approaches, I keep my heart rate steady and lean down, gripping my gun tightly. With each heavy step, I anticipate his movements. Anger radiates from him, but his face shows something else—he’s shocked by my words.
“You don’t have a reason to live?” Crew asks.
“No.”
“Not one?” he repeats.
“No,” I insist, my voice raspy from his grip on my throat. “Not one, Crew.”
His face falls, and I watch the fury dissipate off his back like steam.
“Are you trying to look insane?” he says, and sorrow shows in his eyes.
“I don’t really care if you think I’m crazy,” I reply.
“Well, I fucking guessed that already, Mara.”
“Perfect then,” I bite, walking toward him, and he flinches. “Nothing should surprise you then.”
His gun presses against my forehead as I stare at him, letting the anger build once more in my chest.
“Not true,” Crew responds.
“What?” I rasp.
“You,” he says. “You surprise me.”
My heart no longer stays steady; instead, it pounds against my ribs.
If he kills me right now, I’d like to think there would be consequences for him.
However, I don’t believe that would be the case.
Maybe Lowell planned this from the beginning, knowing I’d lose control, and he could take me out this way.
Crew clicks the safety off and stares at me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. I slowly lift my hand, wrapping my palm around the barrel of the gun, pressing it harder into my own head.
“Stop teasing me like a pussy,” I spit, glaring into his eyes. “Just do it.”
And I somewhat wish he would.
“Oh, I love to tease, little angel,” his voice deepens. “Just not like this.”
His eyes turn an unholy shade of black, but he remains still, keeping the cold gun firmly pressed against my eyes.
I glance again at his shoulder and watch as the skin folds back together like nothing ever happened.
I also notice his arm extending straighter, as if his pain has completely disappeared.
Another smirk curls his lips as he lowers the gun, and my forehead immediately feels the loss of the cool metal.
“Coward,” I mumble.
“Unlike you, I’m not an idiot.” Crew steps back, moving the gun to his side. “Killing you would be war against the Lyre Order, and I don’t really have that in my schedule this week.”
I glance toward the large building across the street where Lewis remains at the bar, and Crew follows my gaze.
He won’t be there much longer, and the way he leans in his chair is my indicator for that assessment.
He’s drunk, and it’s obvious even from this distance.
I watch as a waitress approaches, and he wraps his hand around her firm ass.
She bats him away, and I can’t help but snarl.
Pig.
I glance back at Crew, and he’s staring at me. His hand is still firmly wrapped around his gun, as if I might raise mine at any moment. To be honest, I’m considering it.
“Shoot me again, and I can’t promise that I won’t return the favor with a bullet in your pretty little head. Understand?”
“Come around me again, and I will,” I reply.
He furrows his brows. “What is your fucking deal with me?”
“Everything.” I storm toward him.
Crew exhales. “So original.”
“You are arrogant and entitled,” I say, flashing my teeth. “You are foolish, careless, and a murderer. You’ve never worked for anything in your life, and you are literal scum.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” he rasps.
“I know all I need to.”
Crew laughs. “I hope you know you just described yourself. If that’s how you see me, then believe it or not, we are the same.”
I raise my gun again in a flash and point it at his head this time.
Anger swirls around me like a tidal wave, and I fear it’s reached the peak of no return, seconds away from crashing upon me and swallowing me whole.
My heart races, and I feel my cheeks warming even as the chilly night breeze works to cool me.
“I am a man of my word, little angel.” His silver eyes peek through the tops of his lids. “Shoot me again, and I will fucking kill you.”
“Not if I kill you first.”
Crew tilts his head. “But you didn’t just now.”
I extend my gun toward him, straightening my arm.
“You missed on purpose. Why’s that?”
I glare at him, and in a flash, I extend my arm above my head and shoot into the sky, making Crew recoil. His eyes widen, and I watch the hatred for me grow within him like a blossoming disease. I drop the gun beside me again and smile up at him.
“What is wrong with you?” he shouts.
“I don’t like games, Bannermin. No matter what Lowell and your father say, I’m not working with you.”
Crew’s angry gaze bores into mine.
“I will finish this assignment and all in the future alone.” I wave him to leave. “I’ll kill Lewis. Go back to your Order. Your daddy is waiting.”
He bounds toward me like a storm of darkness. “Fuck you.”