Page 9 of The Devil's Wrath

I smirked, stepping back and straightening my dress. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

FOUR

THEO

Ihadn’t planned on following her, but here I was, sitting across the street from a shitty dive bar called Spanky’s after hailing a cab to follow her when she almost caught me trailing her in the alley. The neon sign flickered and buzzed, casting an eerie red glow across the puddles in the potholed parking lot. What the hell was she doing in a joint like this?

I debated my next move. Following her into the bar would be risky—but before I could decide, she emerged from the rusty door, leaning unsteadily on the arm of a hulking figure in a black leather jacket.

He looked like a tool.

As they stepped into the light, I glimpsed her face—those gray eyes didn’t recognize me as she walked past the taxi.

She was drunk.

The pair climbed into a waiting Cadillac and peeled out, tires squealing. My heart pounded as a quick but unplaceable memory tore through my vision.

The sound of someone screaming for help . . . Broken glass littering the pavement.

I shook my head, the shrieking subsiding as I told the cab driver, “Follow that Caddy, but keep a distance,” I tossed a wad of bills into the front seat.

The driver hesitated momentarily, eyeing me suspiciously in the rearview mirror, but the sight of the cash convinced him to ignore the alarms blaring in his head. He stomped on the gas, and we lurched forward, tailing the Cadillac at a discreet distance.

Who was this gorilla in a leather jacket she was all over?

The driver made a sharp right, and we followed, the cab’s brakes squealing in protest. We were headed into a nicer part of town in the Upper East Side. The Cadillac slowed and pulled up to the curb in front of a three-story townhouse, whose exterior exuded wealth and sophistication, starkly contrasting the seedy bar they’d just left.

The hulking figure emerged from the driver’s side and walked around to open the passenger’s door, offering his hand to help her out. She stumbled slightly as she stood, giggling and leaning into him for support.

I told the cab driver to pull over a block away, my eyes never leaving the pair as they approached the front door of one of the end units. She fumbled with her keys before unlocking the front door. The gorilla tried to push his way inside, but she kept her palm pressed firmly against his chest.

She shook her head, saying something I couldn’t hear from this distance. He tried to lean in, but she turned her face away and he ended up planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek instead. The gorilla’s posture stiffened and he stepped back, his hands raised placatingly. She consolingly patted his arm before gently pushing him back and closing the door, leaving him alone on the stoop.

He stood there, staring at the closed door, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Then, with a sharp turn, he stalked back to the Cadillac, yanked open the door, and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and the car pulled away from the curb, accelerating down the street.

I leaned forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder. “Park across the street from the townhouse,” I instructed, my eyes fixed on the building’s facade. The driver complied without a word, pulling into an open spot beneath a streetlamp.

The townhouse stood silent and imposing, its windows dark, savefor a faint glow emanating from behind the drawn curtains on the second floor. Was she alone in there?

I drummed my fingers on my thigh, weighing my options. I could sit here all night, waiting for something to happen, or I could take a more proactive approach.

Making up my mind, I reached for the door handle. “Keep the meter running,” I told the driver as I stepped onto the sidewalk. “I won’t be long.”

The driver grunted his acknowledgment, his eyes already glued to his phone screen. I crossed the street with a purposeful stride, my gaze fixed on the townhouse. As I drew closer, I noticed a narrow alley running along the side of the building. It was a long shot, but it might provide a way to get a closer look without being seen.

I slipped into the alley, hugging the shadows as I crept along the side of the townhouse. My footsteps seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night, and I winced with each scuff of my shoes against the pavement.

As I neared the back of the building, I spotted a faint light spilling from a small window at ground level—likely a basement or cellar. I crouched down, inching closer to the window, carefully avoiding any stray branches or debris that might give away my presence.

Just then, a loud crash echoed from somewhere inside.

I froze, holding my breath, my heart pounding in my ears. A light flicked on in a third-story window, casting a pale rectangle of illumination onto the patch of grass beside me. I pressed against the rough brick wall, willing myself to become invisible.

Shadows moved behind the curtain, and I could hear the muffled sound of voices—hers and a man’s, deep and unfamiliar. An argument? The words were indistinct, but the tone was unmistakable.

The man’s voice grew louder and angrier, followed by a sharp crack that sounded like a slap. Then the light in the window winked out, plunging the yard back into darkness.

Another item to check off the list of things I hadn’t intended to do tonight was kicking in the back door and barging inside to play the hero. But the sound of the slap and her yelp of pain propelled me into actionbefore I could second-guess myself. I took a step back and delivered a powerful kick right beside the handle. The wood splintered with a satisfying crack, and the door flew open, slamming against the interior wall.

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