Page 97 of Carnival
“You don’t have a choice,’’ Maverick responds, and before I can respond, he snaps his fingers. In an instant, a few of his men drop their weapons down, and two of them grab Rosalie by her elbows, dragging her away toward a car whose engine is already running.
Something in me snaps, and I completely forget that one of my hands isn’t working. I reach to grab one of the motherfuckerswho dared to lay his hands on Rose, only to be tased in the chest by someone else.
Pain shoots through my entire body, but I don’t stop. My eyes flash with fury, my feet carrying me toward Rose, only for another round of tasering to hit my lower back.
“How the fuck is he still standing?” One of them asks, shocked. “It’s fifty thousand volts!’’
My vision blurs, the poorly stitched wounds on my body reopen, and blood slowly drips down my torso. My breathing is labored, my feet barely functioning. I’m too fucking slow. By the time I manage to regain my vision, at least a little bit, Rosalie’s being shoved in the back of a car by Maverick, with at least ten of his men surrounding me.
I take a deep breath, taking advantage of them not attacking. They think I’m too weak to handle them, and they’re probably right. But this isn’t something I’ll let slide, nor am I willing to be put down like a damned dog.
My mind goes back to all of the things I’ve done in the past. I regret none. The people I’ve killed, the things I’ve done — I have no regrets whatsoever. It could be karma trying to be a bitch and trying to catch up with me, but it’ll have to wait.
Because tonight, I have a lot to lose, and I don’t fucking lose.
I roll up my dirty shirt, grab the hem between my teeth, and rip it with my good hand. It takes me a minute, but I manage to wrap up the wound on my stomach, doing a tight knot to stop the bleeding and lessen the pain.
My back cracks as I straighten up, the bloodthirst slowly starting to surface. I turn to face Vivian’s men, eyes drifting between each one, finding at least one weak spot. They might beworking for the same person, but they’re nothing but cowards. All I need is to take down two or three of them, and the rest will either get scared and run away or get too sloppy. Either way, it works for me.
The clock is ticking, and I have no time to waste.
I lift my head up, looking directly into the camera that is on the house. A slow, lazy smirk tugs on my lips, and I know that wherever Vivian is, she is definitely watching.
“Once I’m done with them, I’m coming for you, Vivian. You’ll regret the day you were born, you cunt.’’
37
Rose
“Let go of me!”
My scream falls on deaf ears, because Maverick doesn’t even acknowledge the words. He shoves me into the backseat of the car, closing the door behind me. I try to pry it open, but the child’s lock is on, because of course it fucking is.
Frantically, I begin to search for anything in the car that could possibly help me break the glass and jump out. The leather seat beneath me squeaks as I squirm, my mind going into a frenzy. My heart is thumping against my chest, and the overwhelming paranoia, the unknown, starts adding to the existing sense of panic that’s been building inside me since I stepped outside the manor.
Maverick starts speeding off, the manor becoming smaller and smaller in the rear windshield, and I feel my heart sinking to my feet. Sound of gunshots starts echoing, the distance between James and me increasing with each passing minute.
Maverick’s jaw is locked tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He’s driving insanely fast, and we’re in a residential area. For a moment, I squeeze my eyes shut when he drives through a red light, praying to God that he doesn’t hurt anyone with his reckless driving.
“Maverick,’’ I whisper, my voice cracking. “Slow down, please.’’
He presses the brake harshly, and I jolt forward. I managed to grab the passenger’s seat in time; otherwise, I think I would’ve flown straight through the windshield. Maverick turns to look at me, and for the first time, he looks extremely angry.
During the prisoner’s time in the manor, he’s always been passive. Polite on a surface level, never engaging in pointless, idle chatter, but never angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move a facial muscle, beyond the necessity of speaking.
Right now, pure fury blazes through his eyes, and without hesitating, he connects his palm with my cheek. My head turns to the side, the taste of metal coats my tongue, and the impact leaves me in pure and utter shock.
“You dumb girl,’’ he hisses. “You had to go and ruin everything.’’
Just when I think another slap is coming, he takes a deep breath, his eyes closing. A couple of sharp intakes of breath, and his eyes open, returning to the passive expression that I’m used to. I lean back in the seat, trying to get as far away as possible, and Maverick doesn’t seem to care.
“I just tried to run away,’’ I respond, my teeth clattering together. “What did you expect? That I’d actually submit to thatlunatic and do as she said? I’d rather choke on my own blood and die.’’
He turns his attention back to the road, beginning the drive again. His eyes lock with mine for a brief second through the rearview mirror, almost as if he’s inspecting me. The gaze lands on my cheek, and no doubt, it left a little mark.
“Well, congratulations. You might just get your wish and die.’’
“Vivian won’t kill me,’’ I scoff.
