Page 157 of Crave
Each step was agony, fire burning through my side, but I forced my body to move.
The further we went, the quieter it became.
The closer I got to something wrong.
I saw the car first.
The shadow of it, half-covered by the darkness.
Then I saw the body.
Slumped against the tire, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. His radio was still clipped to his vest, the light blinking like he had tried to call for help but never made it.
His throat was slit.
One clean cut. No struggle. No noise.
Just dead.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Marco’s growl came from behind me.
My stomach twisted as I crouched down, pain screaming in my ribs, but I ignored it. I reached out, my fingers pressing against the blood on his collar. Still warm.
I stared at the wound, at the dark pool of blood spreading like ink across the pavement.
Whoever did this was still close.
The night air felt too thick, pressing in from all sides.
I pushed myself upright, my body protesting the movement, my vision flickering at the edges.
I didn’t care.
I turned to Marco, my voice dangerously low.
“The house isn’t safe. We need to get out of here. Get the men together. We need to leave now.”
“And go where?” Marco stared at me, hanging on my every word.
I felt the weight of this moment.
The concrete blocks pulling me down…pulling all of us down.
Something was coming.
And we were already too late.
Chapter Thirty-Six
ANGELICA
The warehouse smelledlike oil and steel, the air thick with tension and something darker—something unspoken. The men moved around me, their voices clipped, their steps quick, but they never looked at me for too long.
Not Silas.
Not Theo.
Not Jude.
