Page 81 of Chaos Kills

If he knows shit, he actively acts on it. He doesn’t sit still and ask questions if he knows the answers.

She didn’t tell him.

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” I dismiss because, well, she is.

“I want to know why she hasn’t left her fucking room in over two days.”

That promptly flicks something in my brain, visualizing her curled up in a ball and not moving. That long black hair askew around her pillow while she’s tangled up in her comforter.

“C’mon, baby, warm up for me,” I coax, her lips trembling from the ordeal. “I guess I’m not ready to end your demise just yet.”

Fucking stupid.

Fuck Wallace. I think I should beat my own ass.

“Did you need me to hit you again to get you to respond?”

I blow an exhale through my lips noncommittally. “Couldn’t tell you.”

Levi claps at the left side of my head with his massive palm, fully aware of my disability, and using it to his advantage yet again.

Without another thought or plan, I slug him in the ribs, only to feel how compact and solid he is.

Steroid pushing motherfucker.

Levi swings, and this time I duck, missing his blow and delivering another one to his fucking junk.

I don’t give a shit.

Proper etiquette flew out the window the moment he hit me in the ear. The shit fucking hurts and, well, so does he.

Levi bends over, hissing in a loud inhale through his teeth, and I refrain from landing another hit while he’s vulnerable. “She didn’t do it, Wildes. Get the fuck over it.”

“I saw it,prick,” I object through my adrenaline. “Don’t try to save her.”

“Judah was on one. Dude was shooting up.”

My eyes clench because now we’re accusing my dead brother of shit? “Mention my brother again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Truth hurt, Baby Wildes?” he taunts back, amping up my growing temper. “That stupid douchebag?—”

“What the fuck did I just say?”

“That’s not who Bayis,” Levi stresses. “Wake up, moron. She doesn’t kill people.”

“She shot me just fine getting you back, dipshit.”

Wallace stands upright and towers over me. He’s like the Wolverine. The dude just heals from pain or something like it never happened while my ear is still ringing like a bitch. “And she made sure she didn’t hit an artery, didn’t she?”

I don’t fucking know.

Don’t care.

It means nothing now.

“Get the fuck out of here before I give you a hole to match mine,” I threaten. “I don’t know how many free passes I need to hand out to you motherfuckers.”

“I find out you went near her again—” I reach for my Glock, yanking it out from the waistband of my jeans.

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