Page 66 of Wild Devil

“I’m fine.” I shrug her off without taking my eyes off Silas. The bastard is still chuckling, but he doesn’t even try to stand up. Why? He isn’t one to surrender lightly. He’s up to something. My mind buzzes as I try to consider just what that might be. My ears are ringing. As far as pain goes, I don’t feel a damn thing.

But the world sure is starting to fucking sway a hell of a lot.

“What are you planning?” I demand, raising the gun to his skull. “Tell me!”

“Police! Everyone down on the ground!”

Shit. I didn’t even hear the bastards come in, but they swarm into the room, dressed head-to-toe in SWAT gear, shields and all. My only coherent thought is to step in front of Frey. I can hear her frantic breaths trickling into my ear. Seems like she’s had the same grim realization I have. For all we know, these bastards are on her father’s payroll.

And we’re caught in the perfect trap.

And suddenly, Silas’ taunts make perfect fucking sense. We haven’t won. The corruption is too damn deep to ever overcome with a thwarted bombing and a hijacked news conference. I should have known better.

Oh well. “Listen to me,” I say to Frey as she starts to comply with the demands shouted at us from every direction.

“ON YOUR KNEES. HANDS UP. DROP THE WEAPON.”

“I’ll distract them, and you run, you hear me? We can’t trust anyone, not even them. Understand?”

“Daze, you’re bleeding. You need a hospital?—”

“All I need…is you safe.” No matter what it takes. Even if it means taking on a room of SWAT bastards.

Even if it means silencing Silas forever.

Even if it means letting her go.

I’m ready for anything.

Except for the world to go black before I can even raise the gun in my grasp.

TWENTY-NINE

FREY

All I can hear is myself screaming. A sea of faceless individuals shout at me, but I only know they do so from their gaping, soundless mouths. It’s a moment eerily similar to the hazy moments when I stood on the edge of a bridge and watched the world pass me by. Present but not aware.

The old Frey was like that—a quiet, meek onlooker in her own life, a slave to the whims of others around her.

Daze changed that. With his gruff demeanor and honest words, he snapped me out of my self-pitying behavior. Gave me a will to fight. Helped me find my backbone.

I can repay that debt by standing still and watching him die.

“Wait!” I issue the shout, and it’s as though whoever is in control of the universe hit a fast-forward button. A million things seem to happen all at once.

The police agents move in, still commanding their shouts. I think some of them even go for their weapons. Doesn’t matter. There isn’t even time to care about myself.

I step forward, hooking my arms around Daze the second his legs give out. He’s so heavy. All I can do is crouch to slow his descent and pray he’s merely unconscious. Sensing Silas moving nearby, I have the presence of mind to grab the gun, at least.

Then I just shout out orders without really hearing myself speak. In reality, none of these men should give a damn about anything I say. If they’re truly under my father’s payroll, all they should do is press a gun to my head and order me into the back of a squad car.

For all I know, that is exactly what happens.

But maybe it’s pity on their part or sheer stubbornness on my behalf, but I get them to call an ambulance for Daze first. I make sure to watch him be loaded into the back of it, strapped to a stretcher.

I do that much for him, at least.

I make sure he’s alive until the paramedics finally pull off. How long will he be with my father’s informants on his payroll is another question entirely.

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