Chapter 16 #2
Crew removes the sniper from his back faster than my eyes can follow.
He aims and fires the large weapon at the building across the street without a second thought.
Before my eyes, the glass around Lewis Vanderwith shatters into a million pieces.
My jaw drops as I watch the man slump onto the bar with a glass of brown liquid still clutched in his hand, blood pooling around him.
The bar's screams echo like the shot's aftermath, and I jerk my gaze back to Crew.
“There,” he bites. “Assignment over. Happy? Or still miserable?”
“Are you insane?” I shout.
“For someone who hates the name they’ve earned, you sure do a shit job convincing everyone you are anything but hollow.”
“You’re one to talk,” I spit back.
“Hollow. Huntress,” Crew seethes. “A perfect fucking name for you.”
He lunges toward me, and I fight the urge to step back.
His face appears inches from mine, but I don’t feel rage coming from him.
I feel a determination that tingles my veins.
Crew’s hand wraps around my chin, and I attempt to turn my head from him, but he holds firm.
His thumb nearly touches my bottom lip and forces my stare into his.
“Stop thinking your life isn’t precious.” Crew’s voice is calm as he meets my gaze.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Crew rips his hand from my face, throwing my chin sideways so hard I nearly stumble.
“I’m going to give you a reason to live, little angel,” he says, stepping back and dragging his eyes over me. “Even if that reason is solely to murder me.”
“Go to fucking hell.”
“See,” Crew responds. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“What?” I mutter.
“Because if you knew me, you’d know I’m already there, Mara. Don’t worry.”
I blink in shock and don’t respond.
“Get home safe. Or don’t.”
Crew’s large wings extend next to his body as he shoots into the sky, blending with the darkness above. I remain speechless, standing on the building across the street while I watch chaos erupt from The Tower’s bar. People continue to scream and rush around, as if they are the next to be shot down.
Fuck Crew, because once again, he’s ruined something for me.
He knows what he did, and instead of admitting it, he would rather play games and torment me.
I can’t seem to move, even though being here is the last place I should remain.
If someone sees me across the street, it’s a surefire way to gain unwanted attention, especially from the cops in Halcyon City.
My eyes stay fixed on Lewis, like he’s going to stand up and stumble down to his car waiting below—but that doesn’t happen.
Instead, people rush around him, assessing whether he’s alive as others pick up their phones to dial the paramedics or take videos.
Before my eyes, a darkness wades from near the elevator, and my mouth falls open.
An entity draped in black emerges from the hallway, and instead of thundering steps, it floats, holding the large scythe I’ve grown used to seeing.
However, the fear that courses through my body never seems to dull.
My hands tremble, and tears immediately rain down my cheeks, because I know for certain I’m watching the Grim Reaper walk toward Lewis Vanderwith’s body.
I freeze, unable to move from terror at the sight before me.
The entity turns into a man and approaches Lewis, placing a hand on his back.
I walk to the edge of the building to get a closer look when the Grim slowly turns his gaze from Lewis to mine.
Something I’ve never experienced before rattles my core, and I feel as if my soul is being torn from my body as our eyes meet. Darkness I’ve never known stares at me, and a sob escapes my lips.
I stumble backward, staring directly into the soulless eyes of death himself. No matter how many times I’ve seen him, he’s never looked back.
I crash to the ground, unable to hold the gaze any longer, and begin to cry uncontrollably. How can I kill him when being at this distance is impossible?
‘Careful of the Grim’ floods my mind as the tears rain down.
I can’t stay here any longer—I must leave before the police arrive and start searching the area—but I feel frozen. My legs are numb, and I’m not sure how I can make it out of here. If the Grim looks upon me again, I fear I’ll fall to my death.
I move to stand, and without another thought, I shoot into the sky and don’t look back. However, it feels as if the gaze of the Grim is permanently stained on my soul—like I’ve just opened a channel between us somehow.
I fly faster than I ever have before, heading toward a small alleyway.
My back aches, my stomach rolls, and I know staying in flight won’t last long.
The cool wind whips through my hair as I propel my body toward my landing spot.
I manage to stop the tears, but the fear persists, settling into my core.
I land with a thud in a dark alley as my wings give out.
The flood of emotions flowing through me nearly makes me spill my guts on the concrete.
I fold in my wings, allowing my racing heart to calm before I get the nerve to continue forward.
I press my back against the tall building and slowly lower myself onto the ground, wrapping my arms tightly around my legs.
Tonight was a complete disaster. However, anything involving Crew tends to end that way. I can’t quell the anger that swells in me like a violent storm, and as many times as I try to force myself and my powers to help, anger is one thing I’ve never been able to control.
I think of what my dad would say, which would probably include something like, "Buck up."
My father was strong-willed, worked hard, and loved even harder. He would have done anything for me, and now, as an adult, I realize he did. He provided for me, protected me, and made an effort. He tried to shape me into a good person, except everything I stand for now is anything but.
He was young when he met my mother—younger than I am now.
They fell in love, shared a brief life together, and like all angels, she left once her child was born—only God knows where they go.
It’s cruel and has fueled my anger for most of my life.
For as long as I can remember, my dad has done all he could to educate me about who I truly am without ever compromising my secret among humans—all while keeping his side of the family a secret.
He never judged me or looked at me differently as I changed into something I know bothered him.
He loved my mother, and being around me had to hurt.
“Buck the fuck up,” I say to myself, lifting my head in the alley's darkness.
I stare at my trembling hands, overwhelmed by recent events. My fists curl together so tightly I feel my nails dig into my skin. I snap, unable to withstand the turmoil and anger settling deep within my heart.
I see a male figure enter the hazy alleyway. His short, plump stature comes into focus as I wipe the tears from my eyes.
“Ma’am?” the male says as he approaches. “Are you alright?”
The dim lights that barely illuminate the alleyway brighten the man's face as he approaches me cautiously.
“Ma’am?” he repeats, stepping into my line of sight.
Recognition washes over me as I stare into the face of the man I saw nearly every day for a year while in prison. Rocco—the guard who tormented us—stands before me, and a wide smile spreads across my face.
He stumbles backward, realizing who he has just walked up on in a dark alleyway. I stand, feeling a new surge of power flow through my veins.
“What a surprise,” I say, letting a blank smile contort my face to terror. “Hi, Rocco.”
“Fuck, M—Mara.” He fumbles over his steps. “Get away from me.”
“Oh?” I step forward, sliding my hand behind my back.
“Step back.”
“Scared of me now that we’re on an equal playing ground?”
“No,” he spits, but his expression says otherwise.
I tilt my head, letting the dim streetlights illuminate my face. “You should be.”
“Mara.” He raises his hands, pleading. “Just let me walk away. I never meant anything I said.”
“You are a dirtbag and a liar, I see,” I laugh. “Fitting.”
I remove my hand from behind my back, revealing the small, loaded handgun to him. However, he has no idea I used it to shoot another man tonight. I smile and step toward him, letting the anger and madness I feel flow through me.
“Remember what I told you the day I was released, Rocco?” I smirk.
“Think… about this,” he gasps. “This could cause a lot of trouble for you. Riggs will be furious.”
“Fuck Riggs.” I spit at his feet. “I couldn’t care less what that piece of shit thinks of me, and you aren’t worth the air I breathe, either.”
I turn on my heels and walk a few paces down the alleyway, allowing my troubled thoughts to coalesce.
I hear him sigh in relief, mumbling a prayer, believing he has triumphed once again.
That triggers something dark in me. A wave crashes over my system, and I see red.
With a press of my finger, I disengage the safety on the gun and inhale.
“I hold grudges, Rocco,” I say over my shoulder, exhaling heavily. “And I’ve had a really, really shitty few days.”
“What?” Rocco responds, confused.
“And you just so happen to be in the wrong place at the right time.”
I spin faster than light and pull the trigger, firing a bullet directly between his beady eyes.
I watch as another body collapses to the ground before me with a viscous thud tonight.
But this time, I don’t stick around. I want to be miles away from this body when the Grim arrives to retrieve his soul.
I may be hired to take out the Reaper, but that’s a fight I’m not ready for.
Yet.
I sprint around the corner, disappearing into the city's lights, and don’t stop.
I don’t stop running.
Away from Rocco.
Away from the Grim.
And away from my own anger.