Page 82 of Liars

My captor hesitated.

Kreed took a slow, measured step forward, the gun never wavering. “You let her go, and maybe—maybe—you get to walk out of here.”

Was that me? Was I what whoever they were wanted?

The man’s grip on me tightened. “You don’t know who you're messing with,” he spat. “They won’t stop until they get what they want.”

Kreed smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “You think I give a fuck?” The gun didn’t so much as tremble in his grip.

“Last chance,” Kreed warned. “Let. Her. Go.”

The man’s grip on me tightened again, his confidence returning. “And if I don’t?”

“Try me and find out,” Kreed growled, the gun pointed directly at him or me. It was difficult for me to say for sure who Kreed aimed at, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of his expression and the twitch just above his scar.

I could feel the shift, the tension snapping like a live wire. My captor made a decision.

And he chose wrong.

He shoved me—hard. I slammed into the wall, pain exploding through my shoulder as I hit the rough surface. Pain flared, but my eyes stayed locked on Kreed.

He moved.

Fast.

A blur of fists, violence, and pure, unforgiving rage.

The first punch cracked against my captor’s ribs with a sickening thud. The second sent blood spraying against the wall. Kreed was a storm, hitting with brutal precision, not giving the man time to recover, his punches precise and relentless.

The guy swung, a wild, desperate move, but Kreed dodged, driving his fist into his gut, then hooking an uppercut into his jaw.

A sickening crunch.

The man sagged, but Kreed wasn’t done.

“You said you’d let me go,” the guy choked, blood dribbling from his split lip.

Kreed’s expression darkened, something unholy and unmerciful flickering in his gaze. “I lied.” He swung the gun hard, cracking it against the guy’s temple.

The man crumpled, his mask askew.

Silence.

His breath came in ragged gasps as Kreed turned to me, his chest rising and falling, his fists still clenched. “You okay?” he asked more softly now.

I wasn’t sure, but I nodded. “Yeah… I think so.”

He tucked the gun away, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to my feet. “Happy hour’s over, little raven. We need to go.”

“Wait.” My voice trembled, and I turned back to the unconscious man, my pulse hammering as I crouched down, fingers shaking as I grabbed the edge of his mask. I pulled it off, revealing his face beneath, and blinked, my stomach sinking.

His features were unfamiliar, his face rough and weathered with a scar cutting across his cheek. He could’ve been anyone—a nobody, a stranger. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see or find. A clue. Recognition. Something that made sense. But I stared into the face of a stranger, and the knot of hope I hadn’t even realized I was holding unraveled.

Kreed crouched beside me. “Do you know him?”

I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. “I don’t even know if he’s one of them,” I admitted, my voice cracking.

“One of who?” Kreed asked, his tone quieter now, more cautious.

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