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His words crash into my ears. “What?”
He grins, but I slam his head into the brick wall and snarl, “What did you do?” Nothing.
“Hold him.”
Killian takes my post, and I grab my cell. Logging into my program, I search for Valentina’s phone. Seconds feel like hours. The air blows overhead, and the hum of the streetlights digs between my shoulder blades. My phone pings, and I quickly bring it up.
It’s not at the house. It’s at some hotel downtown. Nowhere near the Bruno mansion.
“Maeve.” My voice cracks, and she’s at my elbow. She sees the location without me saying anything. “She could be there, but—”
“We’ll go,” she interrupts. Glancing at Killian, then Lex, she continues, “Go to the Bruno compound. We’ll check both places.”
“Finish this first,” the Reaper growls at me before tugging Maeve away.
Touching the blade to Freddie’s neck, I have to concentrate on not falling. My body shakes, my vision blurs, but I see him. His hands on my sunshine. Him, holding her down while they brand her. Him, thinking she belonged to him.
I’ll never let him hurt her again.
My wrist flicks, and the blade slashes his throat, a sure and deep cut. Blood soaks the front of his shirt, and he immediately grabs his throat, dropping to his knees.
“I’d slaughter everyone for her. Including you.”
Flipping the knife, I plunge it into the back of his neck. It’s a merciful hit, severing his spinal cord so that he dies right away. I can kill—but I don’t enjoy it. Not like my sister.
Looking back, Killian holds her face between his lean fingers. She clutches his wrists, held hostage.
“You don’t die,” he threatens her. “If you do, Hell won’t keep me from getting to you.”
She smirks, nodding once. “I know.”
“Let’s go,” I tug her away, rushing toward Freddie’s car.
I don’t give a fuck if his corpse is bleeding out in the middle of Little Italy; I need to find her. Valentina needs me.
Tugging under the dash, I twist a few wires together as Maeve slides into the passenger seat. The engine purrs to life, and I throw it into drive.
The tires squeal as I whip us around the corner.
“We’ll get her,” Maeve vows.
My jaw clenches. “There’s no other option.”
36
VALENTINA
He’s dead.
I tug Rosa’s body toward the bathroom. A trail of red follows her.
He’s gone.
I slip on the tile, blood everywhere. It stains my legs, my dress, and my hands.
He’s dead.
No.
