Page 59 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

Not tonight, asshole.

I leave the silent Porsche idling as I slide from my seat and step onto the broken asphalt. I keep my footfalls light, staying in the shadows.

My plan is simple, straightforward.

But then he opens the passenger door and stares at the darkness inside.

He stares at Shae.

My Shae.

There’s the thunder, and it’s so loud it shakes the ground.

I’d only planned to disable him. Break his leg or his arm—or both. Get him down long enough for me to drag Shae from the vehicle and into mine.

She and I would drive off into the night.

But when I step closer and see the sweat drenching the back of his shirt?—

When I step closer and see through the open door that Shae’s legs are splayed wide as she’s out cold, completely unconscious?—

When I step closer and hear the sound of his belt buckle clinking together as he undoes his dark slacks?—

Everything goes black.

I don’t know when I picked up the brick, or when the switchblade in his hand pierced my side.

I don’t know when I tackled him to the ground.

I don’t know when I started pummeling his skull in, red spraying in a mist as his skin bursts, his brain matter squelching beneath my bloody fingers.

I don’t know when the rain began to pour down in sheets or when he stopped moving.

But everything rushes to me—all of my senses—when Shae moans, a disoriented sound.

“Storm…” she says, suspended by the seatbelt as she leans out the open door with her hands grazing the dead earth. It’s only a moment of consciousness before she’s out again.

Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.

My teeth chatter, but I’m burning up. I’m soaked through, her attacker’s blood rinsing off my hands and pooling at my feet.

I’m burning up with Shae. For Shae.

We’re an impossible, inevitable force. One I’d do anything for.

I turn my back on the corpse at my feet, free her, and drag her into my arms.

12

SHAE

The first thing I sense is pain. Bright, drumming pain right in my temple.

The second thing I sense is disorientation. I’m not in my bed at home; the sheets are too rough. I’m not in the dress I wore; the fabric is formless on my body.

So I crack open my eyes to the sunlight and panic swells in my chest, making it hard to breathe, when I realize I’m in a hospital.

“Oh, god!” I hear Yenn’s voice but feel several bodies move closer to my bed. Even though my eyes are open, things are a little blurry, and turning my neck feels awful.

---