Chapter 53

Fifty-Three

"Go," Hilda urges as she steps back. "It's time for you to meet your destiny."

Understanding floods me, along with my anger, and with a sharp incline of my head, I turn and leave her tent. I avoid everyone as I hurry back to my own. My steps are determined as power floods through me, the cirque pulsing deep in my bones.

It had been patiently waiting for me to claim it.

I sold my soul, but in return, it gave me its power.

Ducking into my tent, I move through the low lamp light to my box of outfits, ripping it open and staring deep inside before grabbing a fistful at random.

My eyes catch on the mirror, and I freeze. My own eyes glow in an unnatural way, and my lips are tilted in a cruel smile.

I'm coated in Heart's blood, but I leave it as a reminder. I do change my clothes, though, since mine are torn and soaked. If I'm going to face down Roger, then it will be on my terms. He will expect me to run and hide.

Not anymore.

If he wants me, then he'll get me, but before the sun rises, he'll realize the woman he is hunting is also hunting him, and she isn't scared anymore. No, she's a fucking nightmare.

I could get the guys and ask them to come with me, but this is my fight, and I won't risk my family again.

I will end what I started by doing what I should have done months ago.

I dress quickly, donning some fishnets and black shorts before pulling on a corset, half black and half red, split down the middle with an ornate Q embroidered on the chest. Reaching behind me, I struggle to tug it tighter, and after swearing and sweating, I finally get it done and add a pair of my thick-soled black boots.

I grab as many blades as I can carry before turning back to the mirror.

Smeared in blood and weapons, I look like a creature of death.

I look like a hunter, and as I smile at my own reflection, I know that's exactly what I am.

I'm leaving cirque, heading toward Diamond's beat-up Dodge, when I feel something following me.

My hand slides down my side to grip a blade, and I whirl, only to still at the sight of the tiger. Freedom pads after me with her head down, clear intention in her eyes. Wherever I'm going, so is she.

This is her family, and one of us is hurt. She's loyal, she's a huntress, and she plans to come with me, but I'm not sure it's a good idea.

"No, Freedom. Go back," I order, my eyes narrowed. "This is my fight. I'll do this alone. Protect the others."

Her head lowers, and she flashes her fangs in warning. I press my lips together as we stare each other down, but I know I need to leave before they come looking for me.

This is my hunt, not theirs.

"Fine," I snap, grinding my teeth. Spade will be so mad if she gets hurt, but Freedom is a wild animal, and trying to control her is impossible. "Stay close and don't get hurt, okay?"

I open the door of the car, and she hops in, sitting in the passenger seat as I climb behind the wheel. I spare her another look and snort. "I can't believe I'm going to hunt down my husband with a tiger and cirque power flowing through me. How strange is my life?" Turning on the engine, I pull my mask down. "Let's do this."

She mewls in agreement, and I speed away from the cirque.

The need to spill blood fills me, and fury keeps me moving.

I know I'm not completely sane right now, but I don't care as glass crunches under my boots as I stalk through the darkness, hunting my victim.

I start in the obvious place—the ambush site. It's empty. Bodies still litter the floor, but Roger isn't here, and I don't find any signs of life, so I keep moving.

Cops. If I can find them, then I can find him. I don't know how I know that but I do, and I trust in the cirque's instincts as I turn and follow that power.

I leave the car behind, knowing they couldn't have gotten too far. Most of them were injured, and this place is a crime scene, so I know they won't leave the area.

I walk only a mile or so before I see a fire. Freedom and I silently stalk closer, crouching in the grass as I grin. Three of the cops sit there, one wiping blood off his hands and face as they huddle around the flames, scared of the dark. They should be. They don't have a clue what nightmares it holds.

Like me.

"I can't go home like this. Tell me why we're listening to this asshole and waiting here in case they come back while he goes home?" one of them sneers, clearly pissed off at the state of their little group.

I don't care about his injuries or these men, but his words tell me all I need to know. They know Roger well.

They are perfect.

Bloodlust pumps through me, along with adrenaline, as I stare at their backs. I don't need all three. I only need one—just to talk.

Eeny, meeny, miny, mo. My smirk turns evil as my finger lands on the one to the left.

"I guess you're the lucky one," I whisper as I nod at Freedom. "Wait here."

I sneak up on the three men, grabbing my unsuspecting victim, the one in the middle. I slam his face into the fire as he screams in shock and pain. The flames lick at my gloved hand, burning me, but I hold him there. The one on my left gets to his feet, rushing me, but I kick out. He hits the ground hard, and I release the man whose face burns as I duck under the other's swinging arm, only to come up with a blade, gutting him from navel to neck. He falls backward, gurgling and screaming, trying to decide if he should cover his neck or his intestines falling from his stomach.

Turning, I face the chosen one as he clambers to his feet, his eyes wide. His friend rolls around on the ground, screaming as he covers his face, while the other tries unsuccessfully to push his insides back into himself.

"What the fuck?" He draws a gun from the small of his back and points it at me. "I don't care if he wants you alive. You'll pay for that."

I whistle and step back. He frowns in confusion just before a blur shoots past me.

Freedom lunges forward, burying her teeth in the man's thigh. He screams, trying to kick her off. I grab his fallen gun with a laugh and point it at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He freezes, Freedom still gnawing on him.

"Here." I tap my leg. She releases him and pads over to me, licking her blood-covered fangs. "We need him alive for now."

"What the fuck?" he bellows, his face pale as he covers his mauled thigh. "Why the fuck do you have a tiger? What the fuck? I never should have gotten involved!" He crawls backwards until his back hits one of the crates they were sitting on. Blood coats the grass below him, looking like spilled oil in the firelight.

I let the gun hang loosely at my side as I cock my head, watching him.

"You're right. You shouldn't have gotten involved, but you did, and now you're going to die." Crouching down, I grin at him as he shudders, trying unsuccessfully to staunch the bleeding. "I'm a doctor's wife, you see. That wound, it's bad. You're going to bleed out in under three minutes. Now, I can either make your death faster or make it hurt a lot more. Your choice."

"Help me," he snaps.

He might not have a working leg, but he has the audacity of a man, that's for sure.

Freedom growls at my side, and he flinches.

Moving closer, I rub my fingers through his blood before dancing them up his leg, and when I meet his wide eyes, I dig them into the wound, pushing into the meat of his thigh as he screams in agony.

"I don't need your body, just your mouth, so tell me what I want. Where is he? Where is Roger?" I purr, lifting my fingers free and sucking on them, tasting his blood. "I can taste your fear."

He starts to cry with big, heaving sobs. "Oh god, please?—"

"God can't help you now," I retort. "Only I can. You have three seconds or I'm going to let Freedom play with you again." She stands beside me, her mouth gaping in warning, and he shrinks back as I laugh.

"One."

"Please," he rasps, holding his hand out as if to fend me off.

"Two," I sing. "Three?—"

"Okay, okay! Fuck, fuck him, fuck you. He's staying at the old farmhouse not far from here, the only building around, okay? Now get that thing away from me."

Patting his injury, I grin as he cries out. "Good boy. She's not the one you should fear though. It's me." Pulling one of my blades out, I grin as I turn it, letting it catch the light.

"Wait, please, I helped you?—"

"You did, which is why I'll make it quick. Well, quicker." I plunge the knife into his throat as I stare into his terrified eyes, and then I pull it free. His blood squirts across me as I watch him die. It's not as fast as you'd expect, and when he finally slumps to the side, blood still pumping steadily from his neck, I wipe my blade on his pants and stand.

Whistling a merry tune, I tap my thigh, and Freedom falls into step beside me as we prowl away from the fire and the bodies.

I'm coming for you, dear husband. I hope you're ready.