Page 67 of Reaper & Ruin
“What’s the matter, pretty boy?” she pressed. “Not used to someone getting the better of you? Or desperate for a cry, now that you know your daddy thinks you’re only worth five million dollars to him?” She snickered.
Atlas shifted, his knuckles tightening against his thigh, but he stayed silent.
I bit back the retort bubbling in my throat, forcing myself to focus on the anger instead of letting her needle me further. She wanted a reaction, and I wasn’t about to give it to her.
Instead, I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment. The engine’s hum filled my ears, a monotonous rhythm that did nothing to soothe the chaos in my head for the minutes that passed, until the car slowed abruptly, jerking me forward against the seatbelt. I braced myself, blinking groggily now that the blur of trees and empty highway had faded into something else—a lone gas station sitting like a ghost in the middle of nowhere. Its ‘FAST SERVICE’ sign buzzed weakly, the neon letters casting a hazy red glow against the soft orange of the early morning sky.
The station looked like a relic from another time. Rounded pumps painted a fading cherry red stood under the awning, their hoses dangling lifelessly. The building itself was small, rectangular, and bright in a way that felt wrong—too clean for how desolate the surrounding area was. A single vintage logo was mounted above the roofline, rust flaking off the edges.
It looked like a good place to murder someone.
A place to leave a body. Or two.
Danika pulled the car up to the nearest pump and threw it into park, the engine cutting off with a grumbling cough.
I shifted in my seat, flexing my wrists against the lingering ache of the ropes. Before I could ask, Danika turned in her seat,a knife already in hand. In one swift motion, she leaned across Atlas to reach me, her blade slicing through the remnants of the cord.
“You,” she said, jerking her chin toward the station. “Out. Stretch your legs. Get a snack. Whatever you need to do.”
Her tone was clipped, businesslike, but there was something mocking underneath it. Like this was all part of some sick game she was playing, and I was the pawn who didn’t know the rules.
I blinked at her. “What?”
“Did I stutter?” She tossed a crumpled wad of cash into my lap, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Go on. But don’t make me regret it.” She yawned. “Oh, and if you try anything funny, I left Yakov stationed at your cabin. He would make your girl suffer with ease. And we both know it would be a shame to waste all that.” She moved her hands to her chest, making a vulgar gesture that made Atlas scowl and her laugh harder.
I hesitated to get out, my body tense as I weighed my options. My first instinct was to fight, to grab her gun or that damn knife and end this right here. But one look at her—the cold amusement in her eyes, the lazy way she leaned back with her weapon still in hand—told me exactly how that would end.
I wasn’t risking Heather’s life. Not for anything.
Begrudgingly, I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid out of the car. The early morning air hit me like a slap, cool and crisp after the stale confinement of the vehicle. I rubbed my wrists absently, trying to ease the soreness, and glanced back at Danika.
“Hurry up, pretty boy,” she called after me, leaning casually against the car door. Her gun rested loosely in her hand, her fingers curling around the grip with the ease of someone who could shoot me without a second thought. “I don’t have all day,and Yakov loves pointy things. He’d be eager for any excuse to shove ‘em into your bundle of sunshine and make her squeal.”
I glared at her, but kept my mouth shut.
The fluorescent lights above the gas station hummed faintly as I approached, the glass doors smeared with fingerprints and streaks of grime. A small plastic bell jingled when I pushed them open, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent building.
Inside, the station was just as tired as the exterior. Rows of wire shelves were stocked with dusty bags of chips, faded candy wrappers, and drinks that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years. A lone attendant sat behind the counter, his head bowed over a crossword puzzle. Clearly a man after my own heart. But he didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge me at all.
The smell of stale coffee and cheap cleaning products hit me as I got a couple of random sandwiches, then wandered toward the snack aisle. I grabbed a protein bar for myself and a bag of pretzels for Atlas, my fingers lingering over a shelf of sour candies as I wondered if he would be in the mood for them. Or if they would just remind him of Heather.
It was as I thought of our girl that I saw it—a small display near the end of the aisle, stocked with lighters, matches, and travel-size tubes of lighter fluid.
After a single glance out of the window, making sure Danika was distracted by whatever Atlas was saying to her, I hurried with my plan. I reached for a pack of matches and a tube of lighter fluid, sliding them between the snacks in my arms.
My eyes flicked to the attendant. Still hunched over his crossword.Good.
I paid quickly, the crumpled bills from Danika’s stash barely covering the cost. The attendant mumbled something that might have been‘Have a nice day,’but I didn’t respond. Instead, I made a beeline for the bathroom, pushing open the creaky door and locking it behind me.
The space was small and grimy, lit by a single flickering bulb that cast uneven shadows across the cracked tiles. The mirror above the sink was streaked with dirt; its frame rusted at the edges. I set the snacks and drinks on the sink and stared at my reflection.
I looked… rough.
Dark hair, messy and hanging into my eyes. A smear of dirt on my jaw from god-knows-where. The dark circles under my eyes had turned into permanent fixtures, and my shirt was rumpled and sweat-stained from sitting in Danika’s car. I didn’t look like myself—not the version of me I’d been before all this started.
But my eyes…
They still burned. They still looked like Reaper’s eyes. The ones that had been hiding for all the months I’d hidden away with my girl, living the life I ached for.
