Page 102 of Red Retaliation
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Arianna
STARING AT RED’S silhouette in the alleyway, haloed by faint illumination from a street lamp somewhere on the pavement outside, his outline looks like that of a wild beast. He stands motionless with both fists clenched, his loose hair sitting wildly about his shoulders and his breathing ragged.
It’s like he’s in a trance, unable to see anything else around him, aside from that... that man. The man who has just been ripped apart.
But this time, Red’s violence doesn’t sicken me - itsavedme.
Using my elbows, I slowly push my top half off the floor. I’m filthy and my head hurts, but I’malive.
My movement flicks a switch somewhere inside Red, and he darts towards me. Dropping to his knees on the alleyway floor, he pulls me into his arms.
“Baby,” he whispers, cupping my face with the hands responsible for murdering that bastard.
I’d never believe someone so capable of extreme violence could be this gentle. His hands are caked in that monster’s blood, and I want none of it on me, but I need Red’s touch more than I care about the blood.
Tension and fear drain from me as I sag against his chest, his muscular arms holding me tightly. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.” His deep voice vibrates through me, and I cling to him, by body shivering violently.
My dress is still wide open; I’m wet through with filthy, muddy water or piss, and now my adrenaline level dips, I realize how cold I am. But all right? How can thiseverbe all right?
“You’re shaking,” Red says - a statement more than a question. He releases one of his arms, and I whimper, not wanting to lose the safety of his tight hold, but he quickly replaces it after shrugging his suit jacket off and wrapping it around me.
He studies me, his eyes filled with raw pain which burns my soul. “We need to get away from here.”
I don’t protest as he pulls me to my feet, just glance at the butchered corpse on the floor. From standing height, I see the full devastation Red has unleashed. Where the face once was, is a bloodied pulp, and the eyes... they’re pushed into the skull.
And what is that?
I’m unable to stop the retch which doubles me over, and my legs buckle at the sight of fragments of skull and lumps of gelatinous brain tissue on the floor.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Red moves to scoop me up in his arms.
“No!” My hands push against his chest. “If you carry me, people will know something has happened. They’ll know...” I swallow. They’ll also know what Red has done in my honor. There can be no denying it.
They’ll call the police, and I won’t let that happen.
Red stares at me pensively. It hurts to meet his eyes. After how he’s just seen me, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him again without feeling the disgust, revulsion and dirt I feel for myself right now.
It must be like he now views me.
I try not to flinch as his fingers rub away smears of smudged makeup on my cheeks and stare at his white shirt. How he’s done what he just did without blood splattering all over it, I do not know.
From underneath his suit jacket, I pull the tattered remains of my dress around me. “How will we get out of here without people seeing the state of me?” I whisper. Stepping onto an illuminated pavement to be scrutinized by strangers; allowing them to witness my shame, makes me sick with dread.
“Arianna, listen to me,” Red murmurs, his one hand stroking my hair. “We must do this carefully. I know it’s hardly the best time to act out a part, but we’ve got to make it look like we nipped up this alley for a quickie.”
I gasp. Normally, the thought of doing anything along those lines with this man would make me hot with need, but right now it makes me want to die. Without wanting to, my eyes track back to the battered corpse.
Red pulls me back against him, holding me close, his arm around myshoulder. “Bury your face in my chest. We’ll act drunk and silly. No one will pay attention. I’ll keep you close so no one sees or notices your...”
He’s looking at my torn dress.I’mlooking at it. “I... I can’t! I...”
“Yes, you can!” Red’s voice is stern. “And youwill.”
Before I can protest further, he pushes my head against his chest, places one arm around my shoulders, the other around the front of my waist and drags me out of the alleyway. Chuckling loudly, he adopts a convincing stagger, and I follow his cue. I think I even manage a few girlish giggles. His well-placed hands cleverly hold his own jacket around me, keeping the remains of my ripped dress hidden from sight.
“Shall we hit another bar, babe, or find a hotel?” Red slurs as we weave along the pavement.
