And if Patrick bought him–we’re fucked.
A growl rumbles low in my chest as I grip the phone tighter.
No.
I’m not waiting for this to come to me. I’m not giving Patrick orZanethe advantage.
This isn’t defense anymore. This ishunt and destroy.I look back at Lydia sleeping.
Her face is peaceful now. No fear. No nightmares.
But I knowI know.If I don’t stop thisnow, she won’t be safe. She won’t be able to have her daughter back here without constantly looking over her shoulder.
Not ever. And that isn’t an option.
I bend down, brushing a kiss against her forehead one more time.
“Sleep, killstreak,” I murmur. “I’ve got this.”
Her body relaxes at my words, trusting me even in sleep.
Mine. Forever.
I stand up, my mind goingdark.The predator inside me stirs. And this time, I don’t hold it back.
“Let’s play, motherfucker.”
Patrick isn’t ready. But I am. And this time,I won’t stop until he’s in the fucking ground.
TWENTY-FIVE
LYDIA
Iwake up choking on the smell.
The air is thick, stale, and cloying, like a mixture of rust and rot has soaked into the walls.
It’s the scent of blood.
Not fresh.
Old.
Like it’s seeped into the cracks of the concrete long ago and never left.
It coats my tongue, making me gag as I try to swallow against the dry ache in my throat. My mouth is dry, lips cracked and parched.
How long have I been out?
I blink, my vision blurry as I struggle to focus. The world tilts, spinning, as nausea twists in my stomach, but I force myself to breathe.
In. Out. Focus.
The dim light overhead buzzes faintly, casting a sickly yellow glow over the cold, gray walls.
Concrete.
No windows.