Chapter Twelve #2
I grab a pistol and test its weight. It’s not my first choice, but it’ll do.
The magazine is next as I load the gun with a sharp slap.
I tap my pocket to make sure my phone is still secure before hopping down from the truck.
I face the dark thicket that surrounds this small town, unprepared for what I'm about to face.
“Addison?”
I whirl around, my heart ricocheting around my rib cage as I see Rowan standing a few steps away from me.
His skin looks dewy, with rain and sweat mingling over his features.
My eyes trail to the splatters of red across his shirt and jeans.
At his side, he holds a massive machete, the blade dripping red, in one hand, and a black tactical gas mask in the other.
I take in the cans of tear gas strapped to his waist, my mind working overtime.
“I told you to stay in the room,” his dark tone reaches me, causing my skin to prick.
I hold the gun up, leveling it at his chest. “You…” I can’t find the words. There’s too much going on for me to formulate a sentence.
His head tilts tauntingly. “I tried to tell you, Sunshine—”
Hearing that nickname has disgust washing over me. My lips turn down. “Don’t call me that!”
He drops the machete, and it clatters over the gravel as he holds a hand up in surrender. “Easy, Sunshine. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Quick breaths escape past my lips as I use my chin to motion to the man lying dead behind me. “Just like you didn't hurt him, right?”
Rowan sighs, looking away from me as his eyes scan the forest. “It’s complicated, Addison. I did try to tell you.”
“You keep saying that,” I bite. “But how was I supposed to know it was the fucking truth?!”
He shakes his head, those dark blue eyes staring right through me. “I didn't expect you to, but now that you know, you need to go inside while I finish this. Okay?”
That’s it?
He thinks I’ll just walk away and listen to him? He has the wrong one.
I steady my hands and harden my features. “I’m not listening to a killer.” He takes a step, and I shove the gun in his direction. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot!”
He stops, giving me a warning look. “If you shoot me, Addison, I will hunt. You. Down. And you won't like the outcome. Drop the gun, and let’s talk about this.”
I swallow, my throat thick with emotion. “No. I’m not talking to a—”
“To a murderer, yes, I know. You said that already. I’m giving you the chance to make the right decision.”
The threat in his tone hangs in the air between us, and for a blink, I think of dropping the gun. There’s no telling what this man could do to me.
Then I remember my mother’s second rule.
Don’t let them see that they get to you. Your first mistake is showing fear or weakness.
I grit my teeth, “No. We’re done here.”
Rowan’s head rolls back against his shoulders as if he’s stretching.
“Addison, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and drag you kicking and screaming back to the room if I have to.
My job is to keep you safe, and I never fail.
” His eyes, low-lidded and predator-like, shift to me, pinning me where I stand.
“Who says I won’t shoot you and scream for help?” I do a great job of keeping my tone from wavering with the adrenaline coursing through me, but Rowan doesn’t seem to care about my bravado as he crosses his arms, the gas mask cupping his elbow as he levels me with a withering look.
“You don’t have it in you, Sunshine.” He holds his free hand out to me, closing and opening his fingers. “Give me the gun.”
My eyes ping pong between his hand and his face. “No. I trusted you once—”
“You didn’t trust me,” he grits. “If you did, you would still be up in our room, oblivious to what I'm doing—”
“Killing people!” I shout over the rain. “You’re killing people, Rowan!”
“Yes!” He shouts back, his voice rising with the storm. “I’m killing people! I’m keeping you safe. It’s my fucking job.”
A job.
He sees me as a job.
Bitterness swirls in my gut, fueling my steadily building confidence.
“Bullshit,” I shake my head. “I’m going to get help, or fucking die trying.”
He runs a hand over his mouth, the other gripping the gas mask tighter, before he gazes at me with something contemplative passing behind his eyes. Twigs snap in the brush to my right, and I break our staring match to examine the trees. It gives my captor the opening he needs as he advances on me.
“Stop!” I shout as my head whips back around to him, and I level the gun.
Rowan stomps towards me, his long legs eating the distance between us. “I tried to warn you—”
I fire, the crack ricocheting through the parking lot as the bullet lands. My only mistake is that in my rush, I didn’t aim properly.
Rowan’s body rears as he drops the mask.
He grunts, the sound low and rough, before he places a hand over his shoulder.
He breathes deeply, his eyes locking onto the bullet wound as he pulls his bloodied hand away.
He sneers at the carnage before snarling at me.
“You had better hope you’re quicker than me, Addison. ”
With no other options in sight, I dart for the forest. My legs, toned and strong, push me into the night.