Page 112 of Capturing Sin

But the hunter dived aside.

And right into me.

I jerked in the chair, my uncle’s body slamming me hard enough to snap the ties on my wrists painfully. My lungs couldn’t inflate under the weight crushing me.

Gunfire thundered, flashing in my periphery as Leo fired everything he had at Sin.

My uncle’s grizzled face loomed above me. “No family of mine.”

Wetness drenched my front, and I looked down in slow motion.

The hilt of a blade jutted from my chest.

I was going to die.

But he’d never hurt anyone else again.

“Liliana!” Panic suffused Sin’s voice before gunfire swallowed it.

I drew the blade out.

And sliced my tormentor’s throat.

Blood rained in a torrent of heat. Colourless eyes widened. His mouth worked, but only a gurgling sound escaped. He slid off me, slumping to the floor on his back.

The weight lifted, and I could breathe at last.

Pain caved my chest as I finally felt the lethal wound. My breath stuttered, a low rattle that reminded me of the last time I’d plummeted towards death. But I couldn’t look away.

Within seconds, the cold light dimmed from my uncle’s eyes, leaving a blank stare of shock.

“Sin,” I whispered, fighting to stay conscious through the agony carving out my heart. My gaze found him across the room.

My demon roared, ducking and charging into Leo as the gun clicked to empty. His shoulder spikes pierced my ex’s chest, sending him flying into the wall and thudding to the ground in a broken heap.

Sin ripped a knife from his thigh, stumbling towards me as a mess of gunshots and blood.

“S-Sin…,” I tried again. My voice came out in a raspy exhale as I tried to process his declaration. And my end.

His eyes met mine, stars gleaming around hollow pupils.

At least he’d be the last thing I saw.

He closed the gap, dropping to his knees before me. “Liliana… What have they done to you?”

The low whine of a wounded animal reverberated the air between us as he took in the damage to my chest.

His fingers dug into a deep slice through his chest. Blood pooled in his hand before he pressed it to the hole in my sternum. Pain flared white-hot, and I hissed out a breath as stars eclipsed my world.

It simmered to a steady ache, winding hope through my veins, but dark blood still gushed around his fingers as my vision cleared.

Panic struck his rugged features as he came to the same conclusion I did. He savaged his wrist, fangs tearing messily, and shoved his new wound hard against mine.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped, struggling to unlock the tightness squeezing my vocal cords, my chest pulsing and hollowing out even as his blood fizzed hotly where it met mine.

Was I hallucinating? Had my uncle hit me so hard that I’d keeled over in this chair, brain conjuring a tragic fantasy of Sin coming back for me?

Blood painted him. Too many gunshot wounds gaped across his bare chest and arms. Precise cuts, like those from a blade, littered his body.

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