Page 55 of Cut Me Down

This mother fucker is messing with the wrong woman. I don’t know who he is, but I’m about to find out. A part of me hates her leaving the apartment. I know the dangers that lurk through the city at night, and what happens to a beautiful woman like her. I should’ve taken a couple of hours and followed her there and back. Instead of watching her through the surveillance cameras, I should’ve been outside. The dealer near the Basement could’ve been handled by someone else.

Fuck. I’m making too many mistakes with her. First with allowing Cooper to reach her, and now this.

If I cut down and take Fifth, then run up Jefferson, I should be able to cut him off before they get close to Sixth near the apartment. Who is this guy? Who does he think he is? Threatening my fucking girl? It’ll be the last thing he ever does, and I might just make a spectacle of him to warn anyone else who thinks they can do the same. The threat that DH poses to criminals like him has obviously not been presented greatly enough. I need to find a way to get the message out a different way.

I evolved from walking to sprinting the moment I got off of the phone with her, and as I approach fifth street, I call Carter.

“What’s up, D?” Carter asks as I turn down fifth.

“Hack the street cameras between the Basement and Third, down to Cut Me Down, and edit out my footage.” I demand as I sprint.

“On it. What’s wrong?” I don’t waste time answering and hang up. I can tell him later. If he’s following them for a reason, it won’t be out in the open, and I don’t have time to explain myself to Carter.

I run down fifth to the alley way just before the intersection at Williamson, and I duck into the shadows of where two alleys corner off, so I have a good visual of where she’ll be walking. I stand, watch, and listen.

There are three different sets of footsteps, but only one is close enough to be coming through the alley. Two are ahead, and slightly louder, while the third is further back, but moving at a quicker pace now. Those are definitely his steps.

His footsteps are heavy, and purposeful, though not consistent, as if he’s stumbling or tripping. Much like the second set of steps I hear, and I’m assuming they’re Serena’s. My girl is too smart to get so sloppy and walk around the city like that. She thinks that her survival skills are just paranoia and trauma, but she doesn’t realize how cunning it truly makes her.

I see him now as he approaches the turn off of the alleyway. Skinny, tall, his blown-out veins creating lumps on the skin of his poorly tattooed arms. He’s making his way quickly down the way, my assumption is because he wants to reach the end of the alley before the girls pass it, so he can drag them in. The whites of his eyes are almost completely blacked out by his dilated pupils, and it’s clear that he’s high. Off of what? I can’t tell, but at this current moment it doesn’t matter anyway.

As soon as he turns the corner I step out, wrap my arm around his neck, and hold his mouth shut. Using my strength to keep him immobilized long enough to show him that I’m the one in control now. I look out to the street as the other sets of steps get closer to see my beautiful woman and her snarky friend walk past. Serena is stumbling as she walks, obviously drunk, but Ashia is looking around, paranoid. Scared. Her small shivers showing on her bottom lip, and her eyes can’t focus she’s looking around so much. Igniting the fire deep within my belly.

The worry in her eyes opens the gates to my rage, and the moment she passes the alley, I shove this fuckers head into the bricks next to us. The feeling of his nose breaking rings through his head, so harshly that I can feel it on the back of his skull. He drops, and the weight of her fear pulls me down on top of him. I land blow, after blow to his head, aiming for the most vulnerable points in his facial structure, and ignoring the stinging emitting from my hand. Blood begins to spatter, and the crunching noises just grow louder and louder with every hit.

This piece of shit was going to hurt my little wolf, and I can’t have that.

Normally when I kill, it’s malicious, and rough, but calculated. Sometimes when we take down Dust operations we’re sneaking through warehouses, or open firing when there aren’t any hostages. I used to feel the anger more presently, but now I’ve come to look at Dust like we’re exterminators, just a job, mostly, to keep the people safe. There’s no targeting the individual dealers or manufacturers most of the time, so the joy of killing them isn’t the same. This man? Pure, unhinged, rage is fueling me.

The heat that I long for when I kill is back, and I’m drawing it in with every hit, boiling me to the point of sweat. Ravenously, I withdraw my knife and plunge it into his throat. Soaking in the squelching sound it makes, and although I expected squirming, I realize he’s already dead. The initial blow to the bricks probably forced his nasal bone into his brain, but I was too enraged to notice.

I draw in a deep breath from my carnage, knowing the work is done, and it’s like I need every sense to engulf the slaughter. The sweet crimson smell infiltrates my nostrils. Seeping deep into every fiber of my skin, and the red fog in my vision begins to clear. My chest, however, still feels empty. Like I still can’t catch my breath. I find myself looking back to the street for her, needing to see her. I visualize her in my mind, safe and sound in her apartment. Waiting for me. The thought alone allows my shaking hands to steady, and I force myself to take a deep breath.

Searching in his pockets, I find a pipe, which is freshly used, crack knotted up in a small bag, and a wallet. The ID reads Jeremy Eizner, and there’s a couple of cards with his name on it as well. Normally, this would be enough to confirm someone’s identity, but the knowledge of this man’s drug use makes me believe the wallet could be stolen. Holding the ID up to my victim, I try my best to match the faces. His now caved-in nose, and beaten to a pulp features make that difficult, but most of the shape of his head, hair, and eye color match. So, that’s good enough for me.

I call Carter back, and I’m not shocked when it only rings half a time.

“Send Graham to my location and find me every piece of information on Jeremy Eizner. I want to know if he’s Dust or just a drug addict. Birthdate is December twelfth, nineteen-ninety.”

“Got it. Body or pending?” Carter knows when to handle business and when to ask questions. When we’re not on duty, he’s friendly, humorous, and laid back. While we’re working? Short, to the point, and precise. He also knows not to take things personally. Short conversations or orders don’t offend him. No offense to Kade, but I’d probably keep Carter over him any day of the week.

“Body.”

“Clean up?” He asks, so he can relay what Graham is supposed to do.

“Yes.”

“Dispatching now.” I hang up and pocket my phone back before I drag his body into the shadows. Another urge floods my head, and I just want to run to her apartment and hold her. The bruises from her last attack aren’t even fully healed and this asshole thought she looked like a good target. He took her obvious abuse and wanted to twist it to his advantage. I should have drug out his pain longer, really made him suffer for even thinking of getting near her. But she’s safe, and that’s all that matters to me.

After Graham came and I helped him with the body, I sprinted to her apartment. Not really caring if someone sees me or not. Normally I’d sneak in the back and up the fire escape to the hallway. Playfully evading Serena’s horrible lookout skills, but I didn’t bother this time. I ran right to the front door and up the stairs. I’m now standing at the very top, trying to calm myself before I walk inside so I don’t scare Ashia any further, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to calm down until I see her for myself.

Once I reach her door I go to pick the lock, but I’m surprised when she flings the door open and stares at me. The relieved looking her face probably mirrors my own, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat.

Standing to my full height, I take all of her in. Those hypnotizing, doe eyes, her long dark hair, and even her still trembling, but perfectly plump lips. I go to step inside, but she moves first. Throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face in my chest. The sweet sentiment throws me off a little, sending a new wave of emotions throughout my body, but after a deep inhale, I quickly accept her embrace. Wrapping one arm around her while my other hand moves up to hold the back of her head.

“You’re okay, baby. He’s gone.” I reassure her softly.

“Who was he?” She’s still shaking, the evidence presents in her voice. So, I tighten my grip on her to try and calm her nerves.

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