Page 99 of Kings Fear No One
Ozzie spits out blood from the right hook he took. “That escalated fast. Maybe next time don’t start a bar fight?”
“I’m going back in.”
“Do you got a death wish? That was a warning. We go back in there?—”
“They’ve got Teysha.”
“So we leave and come back with backup?—”
“You heard what’s going down tonight! Right fucking now. An initiation? There’s no time!”
“Ghost, you go back in there and they will shoot your ass?—”
“I’VE GOT NO CHOICE!”
The words ring out across the dusty lot, echoing in the night.
My stride starts off strong and domineering, then thaws into fitful steps the harder it becomes to breathe. A familiar feeling latches onto me, taking control of all movement. Within seconds, it’s like my lungs are collapsing as they sputter for air, and my knees give out. I crash to the dirt, rocked by violent tremors from the inside.
Not again…
Memories crash down. Flashbacks I’ve fought against.
Everything uproots itself. The past blurs with the present.
I’m on my hands and knees, in the middle of losing my mind. I’m drowning in horror, sick to my stomach at what’s happening. I go from the dusty lot behind the dive bar to the rooms filling the big house that was my hell for years. The rocks and grainy dirt digging into my knees morph into carpet burning my skin. The music blasting fades for the squeal of mattress springs. Wounded cries pitted against groans of pleasure.
It's happening again. All over again.
And I can’t do anything about it.
Anguish spills out of me in more desperate, rabid breaths. A sense of helplessness that’s its own form of torture.
I can’t fucking breathe no matter how hard I try.
“Ghost... Ghost… can you hear me!?”
The voice sounds distant ’til it’s not. ’Til I blink and look up to find Ozzie kneeling at my side, his face twisted in deep concern.
“Bro, you’ve got to calm the fuck down. I think you’re having a panic attack.” He reaches for my arm to help me up, but I smack it away. “You’ve got to get it together. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
Ozzie’s interrupted by a woman’s bone-chilling scream. The terrified sound pierces the night air louder than the music.
Teysha.
24
LOGAN
Death might be waiting for me inside Zapote. I rush toward the bar’s rear door anyway.
Locked.
The knob jiggles when I grapple with it, refusing me entry. I back up several feet to gather momentum, then throw my whole body weight at the door. The wooden barrier shakes against its frame, almost budging under the force I’m using.
I repeat the collision two more times, slamming my shoulder into it. If it’s painful, I don’t feel it—adrenaline buzzes through me. I’m one-track minded. My only purpose in life has become breaking this fucking door down and getting to Teysha.
Summoning what strength I’ve got left, I crash into the door again, finally cracking it open. Before even giving a thought to what could be waiting for me, I bolt inside. Opting for the more silent and stealthy weapon, my hand fumbles for the hunting knife strapped to my side. I keep my eyes peeled for the first sign of her.
