Page 56 of The Devils Melody
I shove the phone back into my pocket, pull my headphones back on, and bolt. This time, faster than before. I need the noise, the burn in the calves from pushing myself. I need to outrun the dread curling tight in my chest.
The music isn’t helping, not anymore. My skin itches, my breath coming too fast, but it’s not from the exertion. It’s from fear. My eyes flick towards every shadow now. That feeling, the prickle, it’s not just a feeling anymore. It’s instinct. Danger. I keep telling myself I’m paranoid, but then something moves in my peripheral.
I stop dead in my tracks, rip the headphones off, my pulse hammering in my ears louder than the music was. I spin, eyes scanning the trees, the path behind me, the little clearing just up ahead. There’s people out here, somewhere. I just can’t see them. Can’t hear them.
A hand grabs my arm,hard.
“Fuck!” I shriek, instinct taking over. I jerk away, heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to escape through the bones, but the grip tightens.
“God, Wren! Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
I twist around—Richard.
He looks like he thinks he’s the victim in this scene. Eyes wide with wounded concern, lips twisted into some mockery of relief. His face is completely beaten and swollen, painted in shades of purple and yellow. He doesn’t even look like himself anymore. My stomach turns at the sight. I try to pull away again, but he yanks me closer, fingers digging into the soft part of my arm.
“I had to come find you. You’ve been ignoring me!”
“No shit,” I spit, trying to wrench myself free. “Let me go, Rich.”
He shakes his head, and his expression darkens, all that fake concern bleeding into something else. Something more sinister.
“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn, Wren.”
That tone. That look.It’s him. Different face, different voice, but the same sickness behind the eyes. It throws me straight back into the nightmare. Not the one I woke from but the one I never escaped.
18
Kage
THE EXECUTIONER
Dick is one boring motherfucker. I’ve been tailing him for two hours now. So far he’s led us absolutely nowhere, wasting time I could be spending with Wren. Preferably with her riding my face and making those little noises that have my dick busting at the seams, ready to slide into that sweet pussy.
He does the same shit everyday. Goes to work at his boring desk job, orders the same boring meal for lunch everyday, and goes to the gym after he's off. But I swear he has to just be fucking sitting in the locker room diddling his dick, because I could quite literally break this dudes spine across my knee.
I track his every move; every twitch of his jaw when he checks his phone, every careless turn of the wheel as if he owns the road. He moves through the world like nothing can touch him. But I know better. I’ve got him mapped like a fucking GPS and he has no idea how close the end is. How closeIam.
I still have tracking on my little bird, so when I saw this piece of shit was heading straight for her on that trail, myhands flexed around the throttle like it was his throat. When I get there, I see her running. Headphones on, that pretty little body moving like she’s trying to outrun the demons biting at her ankles. But one of those demons just stepped out of the trees.
Fucking Dick, that motherfucker.
He says something, but I don't give a fuck what it is. He grabs her, and the world narrows. All I see is fucking red. This is a common theme when he’s around.
My bike skids sideways into the gravel as I kill the engine. Helmet off, boots pounding the earth before the bike even stops rocking on its kickstand. I’m moving before I’ve thought it through. No time for strategy or cleverness. Only time for bloodshed.
He doesn’t hear me. Too busy trying to reel her in like some cheap prize he thinks he’s earned. One hand on her arm, the other gesturing as if he’s got any right. This motherfucker signed his death warrant the second he touched what’s mine.
She’s shouting now, clearly terrified. But then she sees me and her face changes completely. A flicker of hope, confusion, and something raw in her eyes, but it’s drowned in Dicks’s voice. That slimy, too-smooth murmur that reminds me all too well of the despicable men I've murdered over the years.
He doesn't see me until I'm close enough to smell his foul cologne. Then he turns, and his eyes go wide. That's all I need.
I hit him.Hard.
The moment I make contact with him, something inside me snaps. My muscles tense with anticipation, the need to hurt him, to make himfeelevery second of torture. The way he flinches, the way his breath catches, it’severything I’ve been waiting for. I’ve let him off easy too many times now, but out here, where no one can see us, I’m not making that mistake again.
He goes down like the giant sack of shit he is, sprawling in the dirt. There's a crack. I hope it's his ribs. Actually, I hope it's worse, but I don't have time to check. I’m on him. Fists and elbows flying, letting out every ounce of my rage. Every second he breathed near her, every unwanted touch, my fists kept score and right now there’s no ref.
Grabbing his shoulders with both hands, I haul him off the ground and slam him into the nearest tree. The force of his weight and my anger sends a shockwave through the tree. Birds scatter and leaves fall around us like a tornado of my emotions. One hand goes to his throat, the other hovering over the gun in my waistband.
