Chapter 74
A War Zone
It didn’t come. I heard the van roar up the street, I opened my eyes. Sucked in a hot breath. The van swung at one-hundred and eighty-degree angle, slamming to a halt behind him. The side door slid open, grating into the night.
Someone yelled, “Get in the fucking van, now.”
My only hope was to walk toward the van and get in. I stared into the black cavity. The shadows of two of the men peered out from the layers of the darkness, like monsters in waiting, ready to do unimaginable things to me.
If I got in, I might never get out. Karson would save me, he would, I argued with myself. But it was a pointless argument. I didn’t move, because I couldn’t. Fight and flight had evaporated, and I was frozen.
I shook violently. My legs wanted to drop out from under me.
I had to get in the van or he would shoot me.
Then I noticed, they weren’t looking at me, they were looking at the man.
He hesitated, gripped the gun tighter. His teeth clenched.
He glanced up the street and noticed Karson’s car coming.
He didn’t drop his aim. When he looked back his eyes were filled with rage.
Like a rabbit in headlights, I didn’t move.
“Fucking. Get. In,” someone roared.
He made a furious, guttural sound. “I’m going to come back for you, bitch.” His words sounded like a ghastly prophecy and I flinched.
He jumped in the van. The door slid shut, the shrill sound of tyres spinning split the night air.
They took off, disappearing into the deep of night as Karson slammed his car to a screeching halt.
The smell of rubber rolled up my nose. A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.
I dropped my hands down, shaking and dazed.
They’d left the other man behind. Big nose stood bamboozled for a moment then turned foot and took off back into the alleyway he’d come from. Loyalty, apparently, was not their strong point.
In the blink of an eye Karson was out of the car. He lifted his nose and visibly sniffed like a hound beginning the day’s hunt. His eyes moved immediately to my blood-stained side.
I saw fury, dark and intense, storm in his face. Silent rage penetrated his eyes until they became cold, coal black.
“Are you hurt?” he whispered, his voice a mixture of anguish and barely contained rage.
I knew he would know the scent of blood that climbed into his nostrils wasn’t mine. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Shock had imprisoned any cohesive words, preventing them from being released from my mind. I simply stared at him, wild-eyed and dishevelled.
“I’m going to kill them.” Once again, his voice came out so quiet, I barely heard him. But it was punched with a deadly promise.
It was then I realized my face was most likely a mess.
As if the realization sprung my conscious mind awake, my face began to throb.
It felt hot and swollen. My left eye needled and wanted to close.
Each beat of my heart sent a painful pounding to my head.
My nose and teeth ached. I became aware of blood trickling from my nose.
I reached up and gingerly ran my fingers over the side of a hot, hard, swollen cheek.
Stale blood tainted my mouth, the corner of my lip stung and blood seeped down my chin.
“Amelia, are you hurt?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the air choked my throat and no sound came out. I swallowed.
He grabbed my arm and sought answers in my eyes. There was a beacon of concern in the darkness of his gaze, like a distant lighthouse perched at the head of a vast terrain of night. I felt a tremble in his grip. “Please, Amelia speak. Tell me you’re alright.”
“I’m fine,” I finally croaked.
Profoundly and utterly, I was not fine.
He scowled but seemed to accept my word.
“Get in the car.” He guided me toward the door and opened it.
I climbed in. He slammed it closed behind me.
The sharp noise fired bullets into my head.
I moved my hands up to my face and cradled my aching nose.
Pain stung my eyes and dragged salty water to their surface.
I pressed my fingers into the sockets and held them there.
In a heartbeat he was seated in the driver's seat. The car shot forward with a dragon’s squeal.
The force threw my body back into the seat.
Fire ravaged my chest. I gasped, reaching across with shaking hands and fumbling the seatbelt into the slot.
I got out the baby wipes and held the cool cloth against my nose.
I should have felt safe nestled in the car but my heart boomed.
Instead, a cold dread seated itself across the back of my sweaty neck and swept down my spine as if it were yanked in the threads of his fury.
He didn’t head toward home, he didn’t go to the hospital either, and I knew his threat wasn’t empty.
“Karson.” My voice was raw and barely audible. “No, don't.”
He didn’t respond. His head was tilted away, toward the side window.
In that window, against a coffin of black, a set of eyes appeared.
The eyes reflected back were not the eyes of the man I’d stared into, they were not soft and gentle, nor jet black and angry, these eyes were something entirely different.
These eyes were red, and they glowed in a screaming, hellish summation of impending doom.
My throat closed.
Beware of the man with glowing eyes, he'll come for you, he'll come for you. So much blood, so much blood.
My veins turned to slush. “No . . . p-please . . . call Matt,” I stammered.
He was so still, I didn’t think he was breathing.
A predator’s stillness. The night scenery whirled by as the car gobbled up the road.
I felt sick. My ears rang. My head boomed.
The person beside me was not the man I fell in love with, not the man who cradled me tenderly to his chest. There was no sign of anything human.
He was vampire, and he was hunting his prey with a vengeance.
You knew what he was, my mind whispered, you always knew . . . but you buried it. Well, here he is, the beast, the predator. Now what? Now what?
I closed my eyes, desperately seeking answers. A solitary thought tumbled out of the jumbled mess. Bring back the man, I had to bring back the man.
“Karson.” My voice was softer than the fierce challenge I hoped it might be. “There are other ways.”
I reached over and touched his arm. Even that felt different. It was not soft and warm, it was hard and as cold as mountain stone. The cold moved like ants up my arm, my skin crawled. I glanced at the window. The devil’s eyes had faded.
Hope. Minuscule, but still, hope.
“Did you get a good look at them all?” His voice was angry but with an edge of reason. Maybe.
Perhaps he would call Matt with a description.
I took my hand away and replayed the scene. I spoke as each image flashed in my mind’s eye. The details clearly etched, from hair to facial features to what brand of shoes they wore. Each image sent a shudder through my flesh and clenched at my heart. I could have been killed, or worse.
When I’d finished Karson picked up his phone and called Ethan.
“Got her, she’s.” He paused and for a moment he looks pained. “She’s alright. Behind the supermarket, there’s one more.” He terminated the call.
The trees blurred past so fast it was impossible to make out any discernible landmarks. I didn’t look how fast we were going, but if we crashed at this speed, I wouldn’t have had a hope. On the road in the distance ahead I could see the outline of the black van.
Karson slowed the car enough so that we were still gaining on them, but not at any speed that would raise their suspicions. Something told me this was not the first time he’d been in a car chase.
We hit a long, straight stretch. “Get down on the floor,” he said.
“What?” I heard him but it didn’t compute.
“Get on the floor and keep your head down.”
I fumbled for my seat belt, unhitched it, and melted to the floor.
A bolt of heat shot through my rib cage.
I sucked in a sharp breath, dots raided my eyes.
Sweating and panting I squatted low and clutched my head in my hands.
The back of my hair was coated in thick, sticky blood.
Not mine, the guy whose nose I’d broken. I snatched my hand away.
The windows were darkened so it would be impossible for them to see in. Even with that knowledge, fear pounded my heart. If they shot low, I would die.
Karson put his foot down. The lights swelled the interior as we sped past the drone of the van. I held my breath and waited for the sound of bullets to slam into the car—it was probably only seconds, but it felt like a full minute as we roared past.
Perhaps now he’d calmed down a bit, he’d let Matt know where they were. He’d stay in front to block their escape and Matt could come from behind. It made sense, it was a clever move.
“You can get up now.”
I clambered—trembling, coals burning through my chest, head throbbing—back to the seat. I pulled my seat belt on, a trickle of sweat ran down my forehead. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and peered behind. We were about two hundred yards in front.
“Hold on,” he said, gruffly. Before I could process his words.
He swung the wheel hard. I shot out my hand against the side door to brace against the force.
I felt like I was on a spinning ride at a fair.
We fish-tailed. I cursed under my breath at the pain of pressure on my chest scorched the breath from my lungs.
With all the skill and execution of any stunt-car driver Karson stopped the car abruptly on the side of the road, facing the oncoming van.
“Wait in the car.” His voice was a feral, primitive, growl.
I didn’t hear or see the door open. The first I realized he was gone was the streak ahead. He moved fast, like shadow formed by a bionic, moving cloud, and veiled by the night sky it was hard to make out.