Page 58 of Reaper & Ruin
Every crunch of leaves and snap of twigs underfoot felt like the world was shouting my location. I could swear someone was close behind. My breath hitched, and I forced my legs to keep moving, even though they were burning.
I had to get to safety. There was no chance of me being a burden to my men. It was smarter to leave them to the violence.
I wasn’t some damsel, though. I wasn’t going to trip over a branch and scream as the bad guy caught up with me. No, I was going to get to the hideout; I was going to stab the shit out of anyone who got in my way, and I was going to live to sass Gio about everything later.
I was going to be the tiniest bit of a hitwoman I pretended to be.
We’d planned for this. We’d talked about it a hundred times, joked about what we’d do if something went wrong. But it didn’t feel like a joke now. It felt horribly, terrifyingly real.
The hideout finally came into view—a cluster of jagged rocks hidden in the thick of the forest, barely visible unless you knew where to look. I scrambled into the small gap that hid me from sight, pulling Malivore with me. My breath came out in sharp, panicked bursts as I pressed myself against the cool, damp stone, hoping the shadows would keep me hidden even more, seeing as my lungs were doing their best to get me murdered.
Turned out I wasn’t as fast or skilled with sprinting as I’d told Gio. I was just regular speed, and my lungs were mediocre at best. It was a devastating revelation.
The earthy smell of moss and dirt filled my nostrils, grounding me just a little, but I still felt like I might burst out of my skin. The darkness was thick, the air heavy and humid, making it feel like I was choking on the night itself. But I stayed still, quiet, straining my ears for any sound of footsteps—any sign that bad guys were on my tail.
I had maybe five seconds of stillness before I heard it: a sharp crack of a branch snapping in the distance.
My stomach plummeted.No, no, no…
I clutched the knife tighter in my hand, my fingers slick with sweat. Malivore’s low growl rumbled next to me. Her hackles raised. We both knew what was coming then. That it wasn’t one of our boys. It was someone mean. Someone wicked.
I could hear whoever it was a second later. The rustle of leaves, the faint but unmistakable sound of someone creeping closer. My heart slammed against my ribcage, my pulse deafening in my ears.
Please don’t find us. Please don’t find us.
A figure stepped into the clearing in front of me when I peered out of the rocks, his face obscured by a black mask. His steps were slow, as if he were savoring the moment. My blood ran cold as I caught the glint of a weapon in his hand and his eyes trained right on me.
Shit.
Before I could even think, I let out a wild scream, launching myself at him with the knife. My movements were clumsy, panicked, and the blade swung wildly through the air, hitting nothing but darkness.
The masked man dodged easily, grabbing for me, but Malivore was faster. She was the real hero of the story, and the one who deserved the hitwoman title.
She lunged at him, teeth bared, and latched onto his leg with a vicious growl. He shouted in pain, stumbling back as he tried to shake her off, but she wasn’t letting go. She was like a freaking lion, feral and determined. She just kept biting and biting, like a goddamn warrior.
“Yes, Mali! Get him!” I shouted, the adrenaline giving me a surge of courage. I wasn’t about to let her fight alone. Ialwayshad my girls’ backs.
With renewed confidence, I gripped the knife tighter and slashed again, this time sinking the blade into the guy’s arm. His scream was deafening, a gurgled, pained sound that sent a sick satisfaction through me.
I was winning. I was—
Nope.
Even in the dark, I caught sight of the blood, thick and dark, seeping from his arm. The metallic tang of it hit my nostrils a second later, and suddenly, my stomach was flipping, churning in the worst way.
I stumbled back, the world spinning.
“Oh no,” I mumbled, dropping the knife as I turned to the side. “Oh God.”
And just like that, I doubled over and vomited into the bushes. My whole body shook as I retched, the sour taste filling my mouth.
“Why,” I groaned between heaves, “why am I like this? Goddamn it, Heather. You stab someone, and you’re the one throwing up. Real scary. You’re a great fucking hitwoman.”
A moment or two later, I spat into the dirt, trying to regain some sense of control. But the nausea was relentless, clawing at my insides like a living thing. And then, just when I thoughtthings couldn’t get worse, I heard another monster—a soft, feminine chuckle coming from it.
I froze, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before turning around slowly.
Standing a few feet away was a woman. Tall, with her black hair long and sleek, falling around her in a perfect sheet. She wore a mask too, a black balaclava with little horns attached and the eyes cut out, but something about the way she moved reminded me of someone.
