Page 38 of Inside the Wicked

Of course, Alistair has many in his service that would carry out the task of assassinating a child.Sadistic, evil fucks. But he wants it to be me. He knows it’s the worst thing he could make me do.

Micah wanders over to me, dark eyes sparking with amusement. He holds the same revolver.

“I know each time I give you this you’re going to wonder if there’s a bullet inside. If you knew, I’m certain you would try aim for me, and that makes this so thrilling. You can take the chance. Let me warn you though. If you pull that trigger on me and it’s empty, the missing bullet will end up in Ana. We won’t kill her,of course—that would be such a waste. But I wonder how many shots she can take to that perfect body of hers.”

I’ve been forced into a twisted version of Russian fucking roulette.

If there’s a bullet and I choose wrong, aim for the kid, I’ll kill an innocent. I’ve done a lot of heinous things in my life, but this would be irredeemable. I wouldn’t know how to live with myself.

If there isn’t a bullet and I choose wrong, aim for Micah, he’ll hurt Ana.

He places the gun in my hand, and it feels exactly like the last time. I need to shoot the full round before he’ll let me go, and it’s near impossible to tell the added weight of a single bullet.

The kid is blond this time. With blue eyes. It’s almost like looking in a damn mirror, and I can’t allow myself to feel this personally. I have to turn my heart to ice and my mind to steel. Each time I face this, the chances of a bullet being loaded are higher.

“His name is?—”

I lift and pull the trigger before I can hear the name. I round off again. And again. And again. Each time the click pounds in my chest and slicks my skin. I’m braced for the impact to change. Again. Again. And ...

The final roundclicks.

My next breath shudders out of me, and I throw the fucking gun at the wall as the kid cries hysterically, muffled by his gag. He pisses his pants too, and I can’t blame him. I don’t know if they’ll meet death anyway beyond my test here.

This is the most cruel and villainous form of torture Alistair could have forced upon me, and I can hardly clamp my fists tight enough to stifle my tremors of fury.

“Your dedication is impressive,” Micah comments.

I have to fucking hit something, and before I can care about what the repercussions will be, I’ve spun around. The guy behindme is near double my build, but he goes down at the impact of my fist on his face. I don’t register anything else but my feral blind attack on this man. I land punch after punch, and he’s too bloodied and disoriented to fight back. They let me take my rage out on him as no one comes to haul me off. I’m certain they’ll let me kill him, and in the heat of this release I’m not certain I won’t when this guy works for Alistair and I know no mercy for that fact. Until a spark of defiance in my mind reminds me this is what Lanshall wants. The blood, rage, and savagery. The killer. The monster. The person who will do the worst for him.

Pushing up, my breaths heave out of me, and I don’t recognize myself right now. I want to claw myself free from my own mind and body, but it’s the one place I can never escape.

My eyes catch on the gun.

There would be one way.

One bullet.

The thought creeps up from the depths of my mind like a dark old friend. The next time I hold a gun with the chance of a bullet inside, there won’t just be two choices. There’ll be three.

Micah, the kid ... or me.

CHAPTER 15

Anastasia

“That was insane! Completely epic!” Rix gushes.

He’s still talking about the stunt we pulled off by intercepting the live feed to broadcast Xoid’s logo. Everyone in the Den is buzzing with the excitement of it, and though my thoughts are distracted by Lanshall and Silas, I’m uplifted by the spirits in here considering the grimness they experience daily.

“How the fuck do you hack into such a thing?” Adam asks from beside me.

Rix still isn’t best pleased I’ve brought him with me, and the reminder Adam is here drops his eager expression.

“Not something you’d understand,” Rix says.

“No one would understand unless they’re shown,” I argue, meeting his look with a partial plea totrytobe receptive to Adam.

“Are you sure we can trust him?” Rix grumbles, folding his arms as he leans against the desk.

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