Page 231 of Sins of the Hidden

Twigs snapped in the distance. Branches rustled as figures pushed through the treeline surrounding the lake. Voices called out commands, growing louder as they approached. Along the road behind them, sirens wailed.

"Over there!" A powerful flashlight beam hit my face. I shielded Oakley's eyes with my hand.

More boots crashed through the underbrush. Three officers emerged from different points along the shore, converging on us. Their weapons drawn, they sloshed through the shallows, uniforms soaked and heavy. The closest one raised his radio, calling for an ambulance while keeping his gun trained on me.

"Don't move! Hands where I can see them!" The lead officer advanced, wading through knee-deep water. His holster dripped as he climbed onto the shore, leaving wet bootprints in the mud.

I lowered Oakley back to the ground, fingers lingering on her cheek.

The void took over. Prez's training resurfaced—the emptiness before a kill. Hands flexing, I measured distances between each target. Three officers now stood in a loose semicircle around us. Targets. Just fucking targets. I'd eliminated worse odds before.

My fingers lingered on her wrist—her pulse weak but steady. Standing slowly, water dripping from my soaked clothes, I moved toward the treeline.

The first officer never saw me coming. One hand clamping over his mouth, the rough stubble of his face scraping against my palm. My other hand gripped his head, fingers digging into the soft spot behind his ear. A savage twist and he dropped, death traveling up my arms like a familiar song.

The second cop turned just as I reached him, eyes widening. I slammed my fist into his throat, crushing his larynx. His weapon clattered to the ground as he clutched his neck, the gurgling sounds of a man drowning in his own blood filling my ears. I grabbed the gun before it hit mud, the weight familiar in my hand despite the rain making the metal slick. I pressed it against his temple and pulled the trigger. The silenced shot punched through his skull, spraying droplets across my face.

One left. I moved back toward the shore where the final officer crouched behind a fallen log, his radio crackling with backup requests. The familiar rhythm of the hunt pulsed through me—the only time I'd ever felt truly alive before Oakley.

My blood roared in my ears as I approached him from behind. This time I wanted to feel it, needed to feel it—the death I'd been dealing out since I was fifteen. I grabbed him by the hair, the wet strands wrapped around my fingers like seaweed, yanking his head back before driving my knee into his spine with enough force to shatter it. The impact jarred up my leg, the crunch of his bones shattering sending a familiar ripple of satisfaction through me. His body convulsed against mine, then went limp—dead weight slumping against me before I let him fall.

More sirens built behind me, converging like a closing trap. I dropped the officer's body, his blood coating my hands, wet against the rain.

Reality crashed into me like a fucking freight train. I couldn't kill them all. And then what? What was my endgame? Running forever with Oakley, both of us hunted like animals? Watching her waste away in fear, always looking over her shoulder, never knowing peace? I'd killed to protect her, but for the first time, killing might not save her.

Knees giving way, throat closing around a scream that wouldn't come. Her form lay where I'd left her, breathingshallow but steady in the mud. The fight had drained what little strength the near-drowning had left in her.

Turn myself in.

Maybe it was better this way—better than shackling her to a monster who brought nothing but death. The void opened inside me as I stumbled back toward her through the rain.

I dropped beside her, gathering her against my chest. She wasn't moving, breathing nearly imperceptible. I pressed my forehead against hers.

"I'll come back for you," I whispered against her skin, words only she would ever hear. "I swear I'll come back."

I'd burn every last piece of myself for her to draw another breath. I would rot in a cell forever, and it would be worth it knowing she was safe. But never seeing her smile again, never hearing her laugh, never feeling her warmth against me—a torture I couldn't have imagined existed until now.

Fingertips memorizing every curve of her face—the slope of her cheek, the arc of her eyebrows, the small scar near her temple from childhood. Details to sustain me through a lifetime of concrete and steel.

"I love you," I whispered, the words scraping my throat raw. "You fucking hear me? I fucking love you, Oakley." Never forget that when I'm gone.

Movement caught my eye—a surgical mask dangled in the air before me.

"Hey, kid."

My head snapped up, disbelief freezing me in place as I stared at the man standing over us at the edge of the lake. Rain pelted the dark water, each drop sending ripples across the surface where my bat had disappeared moments ago.

Prez.

His massive silhouette was unmistakable against the night sky, water streaming down his leather cut as he extended his hand, my mask dangling from his fingers. "Take it. You look fuckin' ugly without that mask of yours on."

I grabbed it, securing it over my face with one hand while keeping hold of Oakley with the other. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He shouldn't have been here. Not now. Not when I was seconds away from surrendering. Not when I was about to lose her.

"I was lookin' for Nyla when I found this place," Prez said, crouching beside me in the mud. The familiar scent of cigarettes and whiskey clung to him. Raindrops collected in his beard, running down his neck in rivulets. "Tracked some rumors abouta trafficking ring to this fucked up place. Heard the commotion from outside."

He studied my face. The perpetual sneer that twisted his features whenever he looked at me was gone, replaced by something I didn't recognize.

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