Chapter 42 #2
“Now get out of my sight before I decide against sparing you and rip those pretty little insides to shreds.” I tighten my hand around his throat and toss him to the side.
He stumbles, falling over himself as he sprawls out on the ground.
But he’s quick to recover and is brushing himself off in no time, buttoning up the remnants of his collared shirt as best he can and running his hands over his suit jacket.
He turns to the back door, ready to return to the bar, but pauses for a moment to look back at me.
“Go!” I scream, jolting forward and raising my fist. He scurries away, whatever words poised on his tongue long-forgotten as he disappears easily within the shadows of the bar’s backrooms.
“For fuck’s sake,” I breathe, slamming the door closed once more and turning to venture deeper into the alleyway. Once I’m sure I’m out of sight of the street beyond, I lean against the wall and slump to the ground.
The serpent shifter’s offering may have calmed my bloodlust, but it did little to settle my nerves. I run a hand over my face before pulling out a cigarette. It takes me three tries to get the lighter to work, my hands shaking with unspent rage.
I hastily breathe in the smoke, hoping it will somehow solve all of my problems. I hold it in my lungs for one, two, three seconds.
And expel it when it doesn’t. I linger on the desire to go after the shifter and finish what I started, drain him dry and leave his lifeless husk in the alley to be found by some unfortunate soul tomorrow.
I’d get away with it too. I’ve done worse under the name of the Blood Order. Much worse.
But then Sterling’s eyes flash in my mind. The look he gets when he’s seeing all the best parts of me and telling me I’m beautiful and believing I can do better. That I am better. I sigh, rubbing my thumb over my brow. What a fucking mess this night has become.
A clattering further down the alley startles me, my head whipping up as I peer into the darkness. “Who’s there?” I call out. But no one answers.
I push to my feet, dropping the cigarette and snuffing it out with my boot before venturing deeper into the alley’s shadows. Hushed voices slither against the grimy brick walls, too quiet to make out what they are saying.
I reach the corner of the building and push myself up against the brick in an effort to conceal myself. I wait, concentrating as I try to discern the voices drifting in the air towards me.
“What did you give her?”
My body goes still as I finally recognize Andras’ voice. I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t my business, nor would Andras be forgiving if he found me eavesdropping.
Whoever he's speaking with doesn’t answer, and I have to contain myself when the sharp sound of a hand coming in contact with skin pierces the air. The other individual cries out. A decidedly feminine noise.
My fist clenches at my side, my anger from earlier rushing back to me tenfold. Andras is known for his cruelty, and judging by the tone in his voice, whoever is on the receiving end of this is about to discover just how cruel he can be.
More sounds of shuffling grates me and I take my chances, peeking my head around the corner to see what’s happening.
Thanks to the utter lack of light in this alleyway and my veil, I should be practically covered by the darkness.
But still, I need to be careful. Afterall, Andras isn’t just a vampire.
He’s the fucking Alpha. And he’s more powerful than any of us understand.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the scene. Andras has someone in his grip, pushing them up against the wall just as I had that serpent shifter.
“I told you to get close to her. Not to fucking befriend her, Laurel.”
My eyes go wide at the name. Of course it’s Laurel.
I suppress the urge to sigh, having witnessed their toxic relationship time and time again.
I could go to them, defend her. But something tells me it would hurt more than it would help.
For as many times as I’ve seen Andras mistreat her, I’ve seen Laurel play his game and outsmart him twice over.
So I stay in the shadows, believing that if Laurel needs help, she’ll figure out a way to get it.
“I didn’t do anything, Andras.” Laurel fights back, shoving him off of her.
“You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off.
” She pushes past him, turning to enter back into the throng of people on the streets beyond the alley.
But Andras catches her by the arm, swarming in on her once more.
She twists to get out of his grip, but he only clamps down harder, making me cringe at the amount of strength he’s exerting over her.
“You’re hurting me,” she states calmly.
“Do I need to reiterate to you how important this is for us? Perhaps a broken arm would serve as a more thorough reminder.” He jerks her towards him and she tries to suppress a shriek as she collides with his chest.
He leans in, whispering something in her ear, too low for me to catch. But whatever it is, it makes Laurel’s face go white. He pulls back, tightening his hold, and for a split second I think he’s really going to do it. I brace myself, ready to intervene, but at the last second he drops her.
She falls back, landing hard against the concrete. Her eyes are hard, her jaw set. She absently rubs her hand against the spot he held her as she stares up at him. He squats down, brushing a strand of her mussed raven hair out of her face.
“Remember where your loyalties lie, Laurel. And don’t make me doubt your intentions again.” He rises to his feet, stalking away and leaving her abandoned in the muck of the desolate alleyway.
I shift my footing and the gravel beneath my boot slips, giving away my position. Laurel cuts a glare in my direction, scanning the shadows for signs of life just as I pull back and press myself against the brick wall, hoping I was quick enough.
I stiffen, holding my breath as I listen for her footsteps. But they never come. And when I dare to chance a look again, she’s gone. I let out a breath of air, forcing myself to venture back towards the dumpster.
I plop down against the hunk of metal, lighting another cigarette and pulling the rich smoke deep into my lungs.
My eyes fix on a spot of graffiti on the wall opposite me, a tag from one of the lower gangs.
I study the intricate swirls of paint and outline the letters with my eyes, all the while letting my mind work over the pieces of the conversation I just witnessed.
I shouldn’t care what Andras has planned.
But Sterling is so fucking caught up in the midst of all this shit, I can’t turn a blind eye.
No matter how badly I want to. No matter where we are, no matter what emotional shit is unfolding between the two of us, I am still his protector.
I always will be. So I’ll figure this shit out and I’ll make sure to keep him as far away from whatever the fuck Andras is doing here. Not for her.
For Sterling.
By the time the cigarette is done, I know exactly what I need to do.