Chapter 22 #4
Ash’s sword flashes silver. He’s proficient with it in a way that looks posh, like he’s using fencing techniques mixed with his own insanity.
A little hack and slash. A lot of splattering blood.
Alexei is rushing another man, shoving a needle directly into his carotid.
They’re both nice and quiet as they slaughter, making room for Widow to bring Bohnes up the center of the path.
Bohnes is absolutely wet with blood. It’s obvious even in the all-black outfit.
I’ve never seen someone bleed so much and still be alive.
My heart. My absolute heart. Every secret crypt inside of me coughs up a set of keys and invitations for the men to look inside, all of these emotional graves that I’m going to watch them explore.
He just can’t die. He can’t. And he doesn’t look so good.
Up the muddy path we go, the rain cutting off as abruptly as it started.
“Stay awake, Kellin,” I murmur, my attention split in half. Bohnes, and murder. Just that. It’s all I’ve got the headspace for as I move cautiously through the mud in bare feet and a ruined wedding dress. “Stay awake for me like a good boy or we’re skipping the wedding.”
“I’m awake,” he breathes, husky and raw.
I look back and he’s more Kellin than he is Bohnes for a second there.
Unsteady, relying entirely on Widow for support.
Trusting him. Bohnes reaches out and snags the front of Widow’s torn shirt.
“To the wedding. It’s life-or-death either way.
” Bohnes’ smile is grim, his eyes hallowed and hollowed underneath in a way that has nothing to do with makeup.
He’s lost a contact lens, sporting one bright blue eye and one red-and-black underneath his mask.
“If you fucking die, I’m having an extra baby with Scarlett in your honor and naming any sons after you.
Is that what you really want?” Widow asks him, doing an admirable job of keeping his voice down and being an ass at the same time.
Ash is hunting men in the trees, revealing to us that there are a hell of a lot more than we first thought.
We’re winding our way up toward the chain-link fence at the end of the trail. It’s already been cut open, leaving the way clear and without obstacles. Don’t know who did that, but thank fuck. Bohnes shouldn’t be climbing anything in his current state.
“Let me walk by myself,” Bohnes argues in panting breaths. “You might need your hands free for the bat.”
“You think so?” Widow asks, putting his right arm around Bohnes’ waist and using his left to draw the bat with the nails in it that he’s got stuffed into a holder on his back. Like Ash’s sword. The Prescott version of a priceless auction-worthy antique. They’re both fighting with beautiful relics.
“I believe Adrian can manage with one hand,” Alexei murmurs before swinging around the next twist in the path and stabbing his thimble into a man’s eye.
I’m right behind him, using his larger form to obscure my own until I’m within stabbing distance.
I slit another man’s throat before he can even draw his gun.
It’s not because I’m more talented than him. Or stronger. It’s because I’m operating on a level of unpredictable insanity, running wild in the woods on the day of my wedding. The element of surprise is crucial.
Widow knocks a gun out of another man’s hand and then smashes him in the face with the baseball bat, all while keeping Bohnes upright.
The dude crumples. Alexei was right again.
One-handed badass Adrian. Ash makes sure to utilize both hands, slaughtering his way through more men than the rest of us combined.
Bohnes does his part, throwing a knife at a tree branch.
The blade thunks into something that doesn’t exactly sound like wood.
I tear the gun out from underneath my skirts and this time, I shoot.
I fire blindly into the foliage and a guy comes hurtling down with a thunk. He’s gurgling, so I shoot him again.
We’re back up at the top, right at Pussy Point where our cars are waiting. A couple of Widow’s guys are up there, holding guns. They help us get Bohnes into the Pantera before catching rides with the other boys.
I slam the driver’s side door, alone inside with a slowly dying Kellin.
“If going to this wedding costs us your life—”
“It won’t.” He’s looking at me in a way I’ve never seen before. Coming from him, that’s a lot. He obsesses over me. Stalks me. Keeps track of my period. Knows when I’m ovulating, even if I don’t. And this is new. For what’s arguably the first time, he’s letting me take care of him.
There’s so much here. So much. Feelings are luxuries though. I have to keep reminding myself of that.
I start the Devil, reversing out of the parking space with a squeal of tires. It reeks of blood in here. It smells like Bohnes, barely surviving on Widow’s blood. It looks like a red-stained hell. Aw, my favorite color.
Bohnes was first and enough, but I’m eternally grateful for the backup.
Let’s get us merry fucking freaks married in front of the underworld, so my man can have surgery. If he dies, I’ll fucking kill him.