Page 54 of Lone Wolf

I sneer at her, praying Sunny will understand. “Well, look who’s here,” I drawl. “The Syndicate’s number two recruit. Pity you’re nowhere near my level. You might actually be able to do something if you were.” I infuse my voice with as much derision as I can muster, hating myself for the flash of hurt that crosses her face. “This one can stay,” I tell Katy in a quieter voice, as though Sunny isn’t even worth addressing. “She can help us find the right key for the bikes at the garage.”

I glance back at Sunny, willing her to see past the cruelty of my words to the desperation beneath.Play along. Please.

She swallows hard, and for a terrible moment, I think she’s going to challenge me. “I don’t think—” she begins.

“That’s right, you don’t,” I cut her off, harsher than I intend. “For once in your life, just do as you’re told.”

She ducks her head, and I hate myself for putting that defeated look on her face. “Fine,” she mutters. But then she looks up at me through her lashes, just for a second, and relief floods through me. She’s understood. She’s playing her part.

My mother’s eyes flick between us, and I see comprehension in her eyes. She relaxes slightly in Katy’s grip—a minuscule tell that I’m sure only I notice.

“Let me handle this, Dr. Khatri,” Scarlett tells the psychologist, who nods after only a brief pause.

“Let’s move,” Katy orders, dragging my mother along with her. “And if anyone tries anything, she dies. Understood?”

We all nod, and our strange procession begins to move toward the mansion, leaving Dr. Khatri behind us. Scarlett and I lead the way, Sunny behind us, and Katy and my mother bringing up the rear. Every step feels like walking through a minefield. One wrong move, and it all ends in blood.

As we enter the mansion, Scarlett bellows at anyone we encounter. “Clear the way! Now!”

People scatter like startled birds. I keep close to Katy, waiting for an opportunity. But her grip on my mother never wavers, and her attention never fully leaves me. She may be buying my act, but she’s not stupid.

The garage is dimly lit and cavernous, the ceiling low enough to create a sense of claustrophobia. Rows of vehicles wait in orderly lines—the Syndicate’s transportation fleet. Scarlett leads us to where the motorcycles are kept and then stops.

“You can let Mrs. Graves go now,” she says calmly. “You’ve got what you wanted.”

Katy tightens her grip, making my mother wince. White-hot rage pulses through me, but I force it down. Not yet. Not yet.

“The keys first,” Katy demands.

“I’ll get them,” Sunny says, moving toward the lockbox mounted on the wall.

This is it. My hand inches toward the knife concealed at my lower back, fingers wrapping around the familiar handle. Scarlett meets my eyes, and I give her the slightest nod. We’ve worked together before, trained together. She knows what I’m capable of. And right now, that’s exactly what I need.

Sunny holds up a key, letting it dangle from her fingers. “This one’ll get you to the state line before you need to refuel.”

I watch Katy’s eyes track the keys, and then she gives me the split-second opening I’ve been waiting for. Sunny throws the keys in a high arc and Katy’s gaze follows them instinctively, her attention shifting just enough.

Now.

I slice my knife down Katy’s forearm, causing her left hand to release as she gives a howl of pain. At the same time, Scarlett’s knife is spinning fast, catching and yanking the sleeve of her other arm, pulling her right hand away and freeing my mother completely.

My mother stumbles forward and Sunny darts in to pull her clear. Relief floods through me—she’s safe, she’s unharmed—but there’s no time to dwell on it. I close the distance to Katy.

“Your mistake,” I say, my voice deadly quiet as I sink my blade into her chest, “was threatening my mother.”

Katy gasps, blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth. Confusion clouds her eyes as she stares at me. “Grandmother?” she says. And then the light fades from her eyes. Her body slumps, moving only when I pull free the knife.

It’s over. She’s dead. My mother is safe.

So why can’t I stop shaking?

I stare down at my hands, covered in Katy’s blood, and watch with detached fascination as they tremble uncontrollably and I drop the knife with a clatter. The tremors travel up my arms, into my shoulders, down my spine. I can’t make them stop.

I’ve killed so many times I’ve lost count. This shouldn’t be affecting me like this. But suddenly all I can see is the blood, all I can feel is the warm stickiness coating my skin.

“Sarah!” My mother has broken away from Sunny, is heading toward me.

I move forward instinctively, raising up my hands as though to push her away. “No—the blood—” I begin, unable to tear my gaze away from the crimson coating my fingers.

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