Page 131 of Chaos Kills

I don’t bother searching for who it is or what for, throwing the car in drive and darting out of the bar’s lot.

When my wheels hit the road, I hit the accelerator harder, kicking gravel to throw some distance between us and Matteo. I don’t know who he has out here patrolling the streets, eventhough this isn’t Shoreline Peaks, but I’m not looking for my car to become someone’s target practice.

“I’m dropping you off,” I’m finally able to get out after taking a left turn and feeling more confident that we’re in the clear. “And you’re gonna sleep that shit off that you took.”

“Oh, McQueen,” Reeve drawls mockingly. “There’s no point, baby.”

“And stop acting like a?—”

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?” I automatically look at Reeve, who’s staring at my bicep before flicking those hazels at me.

I follow where his eyes once were and notice the wetness along my crop top.

That motherfucker had me shot!

Flexing my fingers along the wheel, I drop my right arm and tuck my hand between my thighs.

“Looks like a flesh wound.”Yeah, explain that to Levi, why don’t you?“We’ll get it cleaned up.”

“I’ll get it cleaned up,” I retort evenly, clenching my teeth. “You’re going stay in your own area and not venture out to where I need to come find you again.” I know he’s about to counter that with a shitty response, so I beat him to it. “Actually, fuck that. This is the last time.”

“It was the first time,” he retorts. “And you’d save yourself a lot of grief if you’d stay in your own lane, McQueen.”

Oh, wouldn’t I?

“I wish you would’ve told yourself that weeks ago when I told you to leave me alone,” I grind out. “Now we’re linked.”

“We’re not,” he replies as I take a right turn toward The Landings. “You’re linked to my brother, though. Legally, actually. Married and shit.” I see him shift his body out of my peripheral. “Tell me, how is that going?”

“I’m still fucking around with you, aren’t I?”

He chuckles at that as if this is hilarious, but you can’t speak to someone who’s fucked up in the same capacity as someone who’s not, obviously. I’m the devil, and he’s my victim.

I just don’t remember the devil saving anyone but themselves.

Which is why you’re leaving this all behind.

The idea of abandoning Reeve, particularly, has my stomach in knots, but I continue driving like it’s my job.

Which it currently is.

However, when we get to a light, Reeve opens the car door and moves to step out.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“Out.”

Throwing the car in park, Reeve might be fucked up, but he’s quick as hell.

I don’t know how the asshole did it, but he currently has my best friend’s Glock in his palm, directly pointed at my thigh instead of my face—I guess that’s kind—and he just darkly smiles at me.

Anger.

That’s the emotion I stick to.

It’s better than tears.

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