Chapter Fourteen #2
I light my cigarette and leave the man there to live another day, the trail of terror becoming stronger. I’m going to guess they have never robbed or killed anyone before. People who are seasoned professionals at being rotten to the core don’t give a fuck what they take or who they hurt to get it.
Like me.
The fact that Lula doesn’t care if I kill these people pleases me in ways that can’t be described. I know with her job, the balance of toeing the line with me will be difficult.
And she doesn’t care about difficulty.
Lightning cracks in the field right next to me. The heat radiates over my skin, and my ears ring for a split second before the damage heals itself.
“Fuck you, Caden.”
Lightning spreads across the sky like it’s traveling through the clouds in response.
I continue walking down the dirt road, the trail becoming stronger until I’m two blocks away from the jewelry store. Stopping at the edge of the busy road, staring at the alley between an Italian restaurant and a computer repair shop.
“Idiots,” I mumble around my cigarette, blowing out a cloud of toxic smoke.
That’s where they are. I can’t believe they didn’t have a better getaway plan? Who the fuck taught them? Did they even try to get away with this? At least I’m assuming it is ‘they’ because the scent I’m following, too much anxiety for it to belong to only one person.
I cross the street, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching me.
Walking down the alley reminds me of the days I used to be the enforcer for Shallow Sinners.
Many times, I would deal with business in sketchy alleys or mold-ridden rooms where no one would ever find me.
Dumpsters line each wall on either side, cardboard boxes stacked, and a dark green van is parked at the very end.
Smoke spills out of the exhaust, telling me they haven’t been here very long. By the smell of it, they are nervous. Regret and guilt hang heavy in the air, and sniffles come from inside the van.
Aw. My bleeding fucking heart.
I don’t care.
“La-lala-la-la-laaa,” the nightmare within me sings, wanting to start the process of infiltrating their minds. I don’t want this to take too long.
I have a mate to see, to fuck, to breed, to claim. I’d rather be with her, learning her body, her sounds, her wants, her fear, than to be here.
Stopping in my tracks, my emotions mix on that recent thought. I’m not sure how that makes me feel.
Lula’s fear has a sense of safety to it. There’s no judgment, no harshness, no hate.
Only love. Understanding. And thrill.
Oh, the thrill she is so desperate for, I’m more than happy to give her. Her enthusiasm for pain, for adventure, for the fear I so desperately crave, she gives.
No one could ever compare to my mate. She was created for my body, which only makes me thankful that I am what I am. If I had remained human, I would have never been able to meet her.
And what a damn fucking catastrophe that would have been. I would have missed the most beautiful, remarkable woman I have ever laid eyes on.
Yeah, there’s no way I would turn back the clock to be human, not if it meant losing the one person in the world who understands me more than anyone ever has.
She barely knows anything about me too, since we haven’t known one another very long, but she knows more than most of the people who have ever been in my life.
She knows the worst parts, the dark, bloody, sad, unforgivable parts that warped my soul into who I am today.
If my mate told me she doesn’t care who I kill, that only heightens the freedom I’ve always felt.
“What was that?”
I smirk as I stand behind the van. I knew there were two of them.
“What? No one. It was probably a stray dog or something,” her friend replies.
Or something.
“Christina. I’m serious. It sounded creepy. Like a song from a scary movie.”
“You’re just freaking out because you shot someone, Becca.”
Beccaaww. I wonder if her friend is the same Christina in Lula’s files. The embezzler. That would be fucking fantastic.
I snicker at my inner thoughts, then frown, because I’ve never been funny. I’m not a funny guy. I don’t make jokes, not even to myself. Enough of that. Being funny ruins my fucking mood.
I listen to their bickering while I have my cigarette. Becca’s panic and anxiety smell bitter and rancid to me, nothing like Lula’s. Hers almost makes me cough, which would give away my position.
“Because I shot someone!” Becca screeches. “I didn’t just shoot someone, Christina.”
“I killed someone! And he wasn’t just anybody. I shot Harold. Cute, old, happy Harold who offered me a fucking job last week!” Her voice becomes higher with emotion, and my eyes roll while I blow out smoke.
“He was old as fuck anyway,” Christina tries to reason. “His days were probably numbered. If anything, you did him a favor.”
“I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I killed someone. I’m going to go to prison. My life is over. I’m—”
“—Oh, shut up!” Christina yells. “You aren’t going to prison.
There’s no proof of who did this. Our faces were covered, the gun isn’t traceable, and Harold didn’t have any security cameras.
We are fine. No one saw us either. We are rich.
” Christina cackles, and the clinking of hard materials clinks together.
She must be dipping into her bag of gems.
“We can go wherever we want,” she continues. “Be whatever we want. Do whatever we want. Rich people get away with anything and everything. All we have to do is get out of town after we remove the plates from this van and add another set.”
Christina makes valid points. Her mind is twisted, a little similar to mine, which I respect, but they are forgetting one major detail they weren’t expecting.
Me.
“You’re right,” Becca exhales, her heart rate calming. “I still don’t like that I killed him, but he came at me, and I panicked. I didn’t mean to do it.”
“I know you didn’t, but I’m not mad at you. We did what we had to do.”
“La-lala-la-la-laaa,” I sing, frowning when I see my cigarette is nearly gone.
The ladies fall silent, causing a crooked grin to tilt my mouth when not only Becca’s fear skyrockets, but Christina’s too.
“You heard it that time, right? Right, Christina? I’m not losing my mind because I killed someone?”
Christina’s heart rate kicks up a notch. “I heard it. Stay here, Becca. I’ll go check it out.”
Oh, this should be fun. I’ve never had them come to me before. I’m standing directly behind the van, but the windows are so tinted that they aren’t able to see me standing just in their rear view.
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Reasons like me is why windows should never be so dark.
“No, what? Are you kidding? You can’t go out there. We are safer in here. Where he, it, whatever, can’t get us.”
Sweet little Becca, in the van, out of the van, it doesn’t matter. Nothing will stop me from killing them. Not even a weak lock on a 1998 van that has seen much better days.
“It’s probably some kid being an asshole.” A familiar click of the safety turning off has me blowing out the rest of the smoke and tossing the butt of the cigarette on the ground, then stomping it out with my foot.
“Don’t go out there. You’re going to get yourself killed,” Becca warns.
And how right she was.
“Look at this gun,” Christina says, then I hear the twisting of metal. “And this silencer? No one will hear a thing, and this person will be so afraid, I won’t even have to pull the trigger. They will run away. I probably won’t even fire it.”
I hope she does. I do miss the taste of gunpowder.
If there is one thing I will never do, it’s run away.
“Don’t. Don’t go,” Becca begs, her pathetic attempt to save her friend. “I don’t like the sound it’s making.”
“It?” Christina cocks the weapon. “It’s a person, Becca. That’s all.”
Debatable.
Becca begins to cry. Soft cries, nothing loud or dramatic.
The kind of cries that are full of the kind of emotions that get my dick hard.
Becca’s fear is so strong, so potent, that her cries can barely form sounds.
The air becomes so thick, I could swim through the hot waves of the horror-drowned ocean.
“It didn’t sound like a person,” Becca whispers just as Christina opens the driver’s side door.
“La-lala-la-la-laaa,” My voice deepens, allowing the nightmare to peek through.
“Don’t go! Didn’t you hear it again?” Becca screams.
“Yes, and it is pissing me off.” Christina climbs out of the van, and I’m disappointed with how loud she’s being.
Her feet are heavy with every step, kicking dirt, rushing to me.
I stand there, leaning against the back of the van, and it groans from my weight, the bumper touching the ground while the front tires lift in the air.
Becca screams so loud, I hear a blood vessel pop.
The fear is quite delicious.
“Stand up! Stand the fuck up! Or I swear to fucking God, I will kill you! Put her down!” Christina shouts, threatening me with the gun.
I stand, and the van crashes onto the ground, Becca still screaming for her dear life.
“Get out of our way so we can leave, and I promise I won’t shoot you. I only want to leave town,” Christina tries to bargain with me.
“I can’t do that. See, you’ve done something very.” I step forward. “Very.”
She inhales a sharp breath, thrusting her weapon forward. “Don’t come closer.”
I come closer. “Very.”
“I’m warning you!”
“Very.” Her fear slips down my throat, more bitter than what I prefer, but it will do.
She pulls the trigger, and I’m able to hear the bullet leave the chamber, regardless of the silencer. The bullet pierces my chest, black smoke drifting free.
“Bad,” the word is pure venom, mixed with all of my beasts.
Christina’s eyes round knowing she is up against something so much more. She empties the clip into me, firing one shot after another into my chest, shoulders, neck, and head.
“What the fuck?” Her entire body trembles, scurrying backwards until her back hits the wall, and the gun falls from her hand.
Becca is still screaming.