Page 6 of Inside the Wicked

“I had a feeling you’d need more motivation,” Micah drawls. “It makes this more fun for me.”

There’s a screen behind the kid, and it turns on.

Ana sits with her friend Riley in a cafe. I know this isn’t what they want me to see, and my eyes scan the rest of the room rapidly. It’s fairly quiet, round tables, mostly couples. Then I see him. A man pretending to read a newspaper, wearing a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead. He reaches to his side, and I know what he’s there for. Seeing the slight flicker of a gun licks a cold trail down my spine.

“Will it be a bullet in his head or hers?” Micah taunts.

The kid cries, struggling against his bonds, and muffled pleas spill past his gag.

I have to take a moment to blink. Breathe. Fuckingthink.My chest pounds as I try to calculate what to do.

The chamber could be empty. It could have one or even two bullets and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in weight. Still, I pass it from one hand to the other, trying to determine if it’s empty.

“Ticktock, Lanshall,” Micah says.

I want to aim it for his fucking eye. Would they risk giving me even one bullet for this? If I kill Micah, I think I can take out the men behind me, but my confidence starts to falter when I think of needing to free the kid from tight bonds. That won’t be easy with bare hands. By then, the place would have heard the gunshot and come swarming.

SHIT.

If I aim this gun at Micah and it’s empty, the kid and I will be in deep fucking shit, to his sadistic satisfaction.

It’s a gamble. A choice of instinct.

I watch the man onscreen click off the safety of his gun, hidden by the newspaper from where he’s tucked in a quiet corner, but in perfect view of the surveillance feed.

I lose it.

My breaths heave as I point the gun at Jack’s head.

He’s a good-looking kid. Short brown hair and deep brown eyes. I picture him as a smart type. Books, not sports. He has a bright future ahead of him and he should be heading for it, not staring down the barrel of a gun that could turn his prospects to sand in the wind.

“Five seconds,” Micah warns.

Jack turns frantic, and I click off the safety.

If there’s one bullet . . .

I could kill Micah at least.

I don’t think Jack is getting out of this even if I do, but I won’t be the one to take his life.

I could kill Micah.

My whole body is stone to keep me from shaking with the absolute fury of being in this sick, twisted position.

My finger presses a fraction on the trigger.

I could kill Micah.

It’s that thought that makes my choice sure. The barrel points unwavering on Jack’s forehead ...

And I pull the trigger.

CHAPTER 3

Anastasia

Idon’t like being idle even for a moment. Silence is the key to unlock the vaults I seal my grief behind. I’m ready too early, and the fifteen minutes I have to wait for Riley make my skin itch. I don’t like to spend longer than necessary in this penthouse where I can’t stop conjuring images of Rhett. Cooking in the untouched white and black marble kitchen that occupies the side of the room. Watching movies on the cinema TV with the strip fire lit beneath it, entangled on the deep black sofa.

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