Page 41 of The Devil's Weakness

I don’t blame him.

“Hurry up,” he orders, pushing me into the powder room to my left. “Leave the door open.”

Before he forced me in, I noticed the front door to the house just beyond the bathroom. I expect the boy to stand in the doorway and watch me, but he doesn’t.

As I sit on the toilet, I talk myself into doing something stupid. I shouldn’t try, but I have to do whatever I can to get out of here. I can’t die knowing that I didn’t try everything in my power to get free. I know my chances are slim. Even if I get away, I know they’ll find me again.

When I’m finished, I wash my hands. Instead of turning the water off, I keep it running so if anyone is listening, they’ll think I’m still washing my hands. Then I peer out of the doorway as carefully as I can. When I notice an absence of the boy standing guard, I don’t waste time wondering where he is.

I sprint to the front door and turn the lock as quickly as I can. That’s when I hear Stone’s voice behind me.

“Get back here!” he screams just as I manage to get the door open a crack.

I scream as I feel his body crash into mine from behind. My head hits the wooden door, and I know I’m going to have a lump.

Grabbing me by my shirt, he pulls me away from the door and whips me around. I crash into a small table by the front door, which tips over, and my body follows it to the ground. My palm lands on the corner of the wooden table, slicing it open as I fall.

It knocked the wind out of me, but when I finally get my bearings again, I notice Blade plummeting the stairs from the second floor. He pushes Stone out of the way and places himself between him and me, a murderous gleam in his eye.

“Back the fuck up, Stone. This isn’t you,” he demands.

“She’s lucky she’s still alive…”

As I watch the scene unfold before me, I try to catch my breath. Suddenly, I realize a lot more people have joined us. Two of the men have an arm around Stone. They, and Blade, are the only things keeping that psycho from tearing my head off. The men give Stone a tug in the opposite direction of where Blade is standing over me, like a wolf protecting his mate.

When they’re gone, he turns to me.

“Are you okay?” he inquires, looking my body up and down.

“I’m fine.” I hold my hand up to inspect it and realize it’s bleeding pretty badly.

“Fuck,” Blade curses. “Hawk, come over here. Look at this.”

One of the men who pulled Stone away approaches us, and they both squat down over me. The man he called Hawk takes my hand in his and inspects it.

“Does she need stitches?” Blade asks him.

Yeah, like this guy’s a doctor.

“No. It’s not too deep, just bleeding something good. Bring her to the back, and I can bandage it.”

“No,” Blade answers sharply. Hawk’s head snaps to him. “I’ll do it. Can you bring me a first aid kit?”

“Yeah, be right back.”

When Hawk walks away, Blade turns his attention back to me.

“Are you okay?” His tone is severe like he’s never asked a more serious question in his entire life.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

I’m far from fine. I’m dirty. I’m scared. I’m exhausted. And in the past twenty-four hours, I’ve been attacked by the same psychopathtwice. That’s two more times than I’ve ever been injured purposefully by someone in my entire life.

Physically, anyhow.

He can tell I’m lying. I can see it in his eyes. The way my body trembles betrays me as well. Hawk comes back a moment later with a large white box in his hands.

“Have her wash her hands before you dress it. Make sure she doesn’t get soap in the wound, though. Just around it.”

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