Page 86 of Missing Piece
“I am doing what I want,” Vincent growled. “And frankly, you’re getting in the way of that. Do you really think you can mind control your way into having a compatriot?”
Even as Richard began responding, none of the words seemed to reach his ears. His beast stirred first, and then he noticed it: a different smell of blood, faintly drifting in from one of the busted windows. Not just different.
Adam’s blood.
The coppery aroma mixed with menthol cigarettes and sweat, accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps.No…
Richard’s words faded into meaningless noise as panic seized Vincent’s chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. Adam’s scent grew stronger, unmistakable now. He was close. Too close.
Not supposed to be here!his beast roared, clawing at the inside of his skull.Get him out! Get him out now!
“You seem distracted,” Richard observed, his voice a grating intrusion. “Worried about somethin’?”
Vincent tried to respond, to warn Adam away, but the words caught in his throat. He could hear footsteps now, light and uneven, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of Adam’s prosthetic against the concrete floor.
“Don’t worry,” Richard purred, false reassurance dripping from his voice. “We can make this a little reunion. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Panic turned to ice in Vincent’s veins as a clammy hand closed around his forearm. He whipped his head around, his heart plummeting as he met Richard’s gaze.
Richard was beaming at him, triumph written across his features. “Be a good little minion and bring him here.”
Chapter Thirty-Three - Adam
Adam wrapped his arms around himself, trying to ward off the chill. The silence of the building pressed in around him, thick and heavy. He could have sworn he heard something, but when he spun around, there was nothing there. Just shadows, playing tricks on his eyes.
The main room was eerily still. Empty bottles littered the floor, debris, and bits of discarded clothes all caught the moonlight filtering through the broken windows. The place looked different than it had during high school parties—darker, more menacing, though maybe that was just the red streak across the concrete. Following it was normally the last thing he’d want to do.If I were watching my own actions in a horror film, I’d be yelling at the screen.
But Vincent was here somewhere, and if the trail was anything to go by, so was Richard.
It didn’t take long for Adam to notice the body on the ground.
Robert lay sprawled in the center of the room, limbs at unnatural angles. His eyes stared up at nothing, vacant and dull. Dark liquid pooled beneath him, staining the concrete floor a sickening crimson.
Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He crept closer, each step echoing in the silence. It wasn’t until he was standing over the body that he saw the full extent of the damage. Robert’s throat was a mangled mess, torn open in a way that spoke of a brutal, frenzied attack.
He staggered back, bile rising in his throat. Robert, for all his faults, had been there for him in those first excruciating days of sobriety. He’d sat beside Adam in meetings, bringing him coffee and snacks, urging him to work a program Adam didn’t believe in with gruff, ineloquent words. Robert had helped him count those first impossible days.
He didn’t deserve this.The familiar ache of guilt twisted in his chest.Another person hurt because of me. Because I couldn’t just stay away.
A cold hand settled on Adam’s shoulder. He whirled around, every muscle in his body coiled tight as his hand reached for the knife haphazardly stuffed in his back pocket.
“Vincent?”
Relief washed over him as he recognized the familiar silhouette. Vincent pulled him close.
“You’re alright,” Vincent breathed into his hair. “Thank God.”
Adam clung to him, the scent of Vincent’s cologne a strange comfort amidst the metallic reek around them. He buried his face in Vincent’s neck, letting the tension drain from his limbs. The hug tightened, becoming an almost painful constriction. Adam shifted uncomfortably, trying to pull back. Vincent’s grip only intensified.
“Vincent, you’re hurting me.”
There was a beat of silence, then Vincent’s hands trembled against Adam’s back—a barely perceptible shake before hishold tightened further. His head tilted, the movement jerky and unnatural. Adam saw a flash of fangs, eyes black in the moonlight as his face twitched, spasming in response to something unseen.
“Vincent? What’s wrong?”
“Run,” Vincent’s voice was strained, a tortured rasp even as his grip tightened further. A sharp intake of breath, as if he were fighting for each word. “Adam, you need to run.”
Before Adam could react, a shadow detached itself from the darkness. Richard sauntered into view, his eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement.
