Page 121 of Semblance

Lincoln was quick to react and lunged for the knife that Shadow had dropped to the ground.

Shadow, still in shock over Calisto’s death, remained unmoved.

“You have to help Lincoln—” I began shouting, but was suddenly blindsided by a muscular arm wrapping itself around my neck, choking the life out of me.

“My employer promised me your head,” the White Crow whispered into my ear, his breath emitting a foul stench of tobacco and vodka. “I hope my brother has a front row seat in hell as he watches me tear you apart.”

Tears stung my eyes as I watched Shadow spring to his feet, reaching out for me. I extended my arm to him as well and for a brief second, our fingertips touched, but the contact was short lived.

I abruptly felt myself plummeting over the edge of the building, the White Crow’s arms still wrapped around my body.

Did this man hate me that much that he was willing to dive headfirst into the mouth of hell just so he could drag me down there with him?

I closed my eyes—and without screaming—waited for darkness to come.

#

Chapter Thirty-Four

I hit the ground quicker than I had expected, and it hurt like a bitch. I was winded and struggled to gasp for air.

Air—I could still breathe, which meant I wasn’t dead.

Yet.

I opened my eyes and saw the large rifle pointed at my face. I was still groggy from the fall but I managed to piece together what had happened.

The White Crow had grabbed me and jumped off the edge, landing one level below. I had crashed onto the balcony of the unfinished penthouse suites.

“Now that I have you alone, I believe we can have a chat,” the White Crow grinned, “About how you killed my brother and how I’m going to put you down like the miserable bitch you are.”

I stared at the White Crow with a venomous gaze.

“You murdered Abraham,” I seethed. “You killed him in front of me.”

“That old shit needed to go,” the White Crow replied. “Be happy it was quick. He deserved to suffer much more than he did.”

He walked over to me and licked his lips with his long slug-like tongue. “You however…”

I found myself taking a few steps back. The rifle was focused on me like a homing beacon. It was only a matter time before he pulled the trigger.

I was deer thrown into the den of a lion.

#

This brought me to now. I was a lonely girl with the shattered dreams of being a musician.

Two people that I cared for were dead because of me—one of them six feet under and the other a pile of ash and bone. It only made sense that I was next to die.

It seemed foolish to think that only three weeks ago, my biggest worry in life was scrounging enough money to have a hot meal. Now, my fears included assassins, serial killers, hit squads, and the devil that waited for me in the afterlife.

The White Crow was still waiting for my decision—die by a bullet or take the plunge fifty-stories down. Both were equally unappealing.

“Make a decision girl,” the White Crow said. “Be happy I’m giving you a choice.”

“You expect me to thank you for that?” I asked; bitterness stitched into my words.

“I don’t have time for this,” the White Crow said. “If you don’t make a decision on how you’re going to die, then I’ll make one for you. I’m starting to lean towards senseless and uncontrolled bludgeoning.”

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