Page 163 of Buried in Blood
“I gave it to her to gain her trust. To keep her inside. I didn’t think she’d actually use it.”
He stares at me for a long time, blood soaking his shirt, lips curled in something halfway between hate and awe.
“You’re either the dumbest bastard alive,” he growls, “or the smartest.”
“I just saved your life,” I snap, pressing harder on the wound. He hisses.
“I should kill you for letting her escape.”
“Then bleed out,” I say. “Right here. In a motel where no one will find your body until your blood’s soaked through the floor and into the bones of this fucking building.”
He grits his teeth.
“Call someone,” he demands. “Call Ansel. Get a car.”
“No,” I say.
His head jerks again.
I lower my voice. “We don’t move until we know where she’s going. She’s scared. She’ll reach out—to Astra, Evelyn, maybe even Dante. And when she does…”
His breathing slows. His rage doesn’t.
“You track the signal,” he finishes.
I nod. “Exactly.”
He groans and lets his head fall back against the wall. “You’d better be right, Reese. If I die…”
“You won’t.”
“If she escapes…”
“She won’t.”
“If you’ve betrayed me—”
“I haven’t.”
Yet.
I grab a pillowcase from the bed and rip it into strips, tying it tight around the wound. He grunts in pain, face pale with fury and blood loss.
“I’ll make her wish she never left,” he mutters. “I’ll carve my initials into her spine.”
I say nothing.
Just press harder. Tie faster.
Let him bleed.
Let him plan.
Let him dream of revenge while I sit beside him, playing the loyal soldier.
Because if I move too soon, I lose them both.
And if I wait too long…
