Page 65 of Wild Devil

“And I’m sure you told her that before you knocked her up,” Silas snarls, striking Daze with his fist.

“I don’t regret being with her, or having Sam,” Daze says. “But I won’t lie. I know what it feels like to love, and what I felt for her… That wasn’t it.”

My heart is constricted, and I can barely breathe. Meeting Daze’s gaze, somehow, I’m not as afraid as I should be.

“It wouldn’t be fair to her to lie,” Daze continues, gritting his teeth against the pain. “And I won’t do that?—”

“Bullshit!” Silas moves to strike him again, and I lunge, grabbing for this hand. For the gun. My heart is pounding in my chest as he easily overpowers me, slamming a hand into my chest, wrenching the gun away—but then I take a page from Daze’s book.

I make myself go limp right when Silas tenses to yank me aside. The shift in momentum knocks him off balance, and in a beautiful, fluid motion, Daze rises beside me and snatches the gun from his grasp.

We’re at an impasse—a tangled mass of frozen limbs.

Then Daze aims the weapon toward Silas’ head and my first instinct is to tell him no.

He can’t. Can’t…

His finger tenses.

Silas laughs.

I…

I say nothing, even as he finally pulls the trigger.

TWENTY-EIGHT

DAZE

I let a bullet fly, but not where I really want it to strike. Not in Silas’ fucking heart, like he deserves—but in his knee. Regardless, he goes down hard, hissing through clenched teeth.

I tighten my grip on the pistol as a metallic taste floods my mouth. I spit on the floor without looking at the color. Could be red. Don’t really care.

I’m ready to die just as long as I can take this motherfucker out first. With a howl of pain, he clutches his leg, trying to trap the blood between his fingers.

“That was always the difference between you and me,” I choke out, keeping the gun trained on his chest. Then, I change my mind and aim it toward his head instead. “I could handle a bit of pain, but you always pussied out the second there was a risk of getting hurt. You throw out Rena’s name, but you want to know something?” My voice deepened at the mere mention of her. I haven’t revisited these memories in so damn long. There’s no time like the present, though. “That’s why she was afraid of you. She knew you’d stop at nothing if it meant protecting yourself. Is that why you had her heroin spiked? Go ahead and deny it.”

He grunts, clutching his right leg, forced into a crouch. “You…son of a bitch?—”

“And you’re a monster who sold out your own damn sister,” I snarl. “You know what, Silas? The merciful thing to do would be to put a bullet in your brain, so I don’t think I will. I want you to spend the rest of your life stewing in a prison cell, knowing damn well that I’m the one who put you there.”

Said out loud, those words almost ring true. Almost. But when I think of him potentially getting out on parole or some shit—and hunting down Frey or Sammy—my finger begins to tighten over the trigger. Not even a heartbeat later, I feel a small hand graze my forearm as a gentle voice enters my ear.

“Daze, don’t do this.”

Damn. I can’t even look at her. Not like this. Instead, I keep my gaze on Silas and consider how fucking good it would feel to put a bullet in between those smug fucking eyes. Even now, he’s cocky as hell.

“You think this is funny?” I hit the bastard full in the face with my opposite hand. Blood flies from his mouth, but he’s chuckling as he swipes it away.

“What’s funny…is that you think you have all the answers, right? But you don’t. You fucking idiot.” He laughs louder, cocking his head to meet my gaze directly. “You still don’t get it, do you? You’ve already lost? You think this little stunt is gonna do shit?” He looks around and flashes a bloodied grin. “You forget who owns the fucking police. Ah, speak of the devil?—”

“Daze!” Frey tugs on my arm, and I finally face her. The expression contorting that slim mouth is the last fucking thing on earth I want to see. She looks horrified. Because of me.

“I’m sorry…” I reach for her, only to stop short, when I realize my knuckles are streaked with blood. But that doesn’t seem to be the source of her fear. It just keeps growing by the second. God, it’s like she’s staring at a stranger. Someone from a nightmare.

“Frey—”

“Daze, oh god, you’re bleeding!” She takes my shoulder and tries to steer me closer to the front desk. “You need to sit down.”

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