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Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Arlo

S he was demure, innocent, with a soft voice that was pleasing to my ears, a smile that had my chest tightening, and a body that made me want to stab any other man who ever looked her way.

She was dangerous to me, the dark desire I felt, the way she made me want things a bastard like me had no business desiring. And yet I knew nothing about her.

But when I looked into her eyes, I saw a survivor staring back. I was good at reading people without knowing their story. She'd seen the ugliness and violence the world handed out freely… the kind I gave in abundance.

Lina , her name tag said, a beautiful name in an ugly city.

I'd come to Sal's plenty of times while living in Desolation, but I couldn't lie and say I didn't come in here almost every fucking night because I wanted to look at her. I wanted to be close to her.

She'd most likely experienced the brutality this world had to offer personally, one that scarred her from the inside out. I felt a tightening in my gut at the strange sensation of wanting to protect her, to save her from further heartache. But who the hell was I to save anyone? I took life. I cleaned up death.

I was a monster wrapped up in the visage of a man. And I shouldn't want to shield her from anything or anyone but me.

I'd made sure to pay her already, wanting her to get her tip and not rely on someone else to hand off Lina's money. Sal's definitely wasn't known for its honor system. I finished my sandwich and coffee, then I waited. I watched. I wanted Lina like a starving wolf seeing a vulnerable lamb. Every part of me looked at her and demanded I take her down to the darkest parts with me, that I destroy her in the best of ways… to tear her apart until I got my fill.

I wasn't sure what it was about Lina that called to me… a more noble part of me, one that had never existed. One that would never be born. All I knew with a harsh truth was that she wouldn't leave my mind. She was a constant companion in my fucked-up head, a light in the blood and murder that took up residence there.

I watched as she handed the check to the piece of shit who'd been loud since I'd come into the diner, her only other customer. I'd seen him before and could always recognize him by the scent of liquor that seeped from his pores.

He squinted at the check, then tossed a few bills on the table despite the waitress holding her hand out for the money. I could see the frustration and almost resignation on her face as she picked up the money, murmured something, and turned to walk off.

Once again, raw anger filled me on her behalf.

My hands were in tight fists on top of the old, chipped two-seater table, the need for bloodshed moving viciously through my veins, all because of the way he glared at her… disrespected her.

And the longer I stared at him, the more I recognized what kind of man he was. I'd seen countless bastards like him before, ones who looked at the women trafficked by the crime syndicate, ones who were sick and needed their dicks cut off because of the perverse things they thought about. And I could see the drunk fucker was hungry for Lina, but the only type of satiation a man like him would get was the kind coming from a begging woman.

I followed Lina with my gaze once more, and I could tell she was trying hard not to look at me by the tension in her shoulders and the way her hands tightly curled inward. Maybe I fascinated her in a sick way. Maybe I scared her so much that she was drawn to me, a girl who'd been damaged enough in her life that I was the only type of man who could pull her out of that darkness.

Because I was as black and cold as the night.

I felt a dangerous coil of… desire move through me. But I knew feelings such as those would do nothing but destroy me. My life, the world I lived in, had no business with something like that .

I watched her mannerisms, could see the armor she wore was chinked and scarred, and that made me want to burrow myself deeper under her skin and find out who she was. Where did she come from? Who was she running from?

I'd gotten the basic information on her. Address. Name. Age. The latter two were easily faked, seeing as she had only moved to Desolation in the last couple of months. It could've been easy enough to gather all the information on her that was buried deep… the real information that some people went to a lot of trouble to bury. I definitely had the connections and resources. But something stopped me from searching out information on this woman.

Another uncomfortable, unusual sensation to me. I felt like it would be an invasion of her privacy to delve deeper, not something I'd ever fucking cared about before.

I felt my scowl deepen, hating that she'd worked her way under my skin as swiftly and strongly as she had. I'd never given a shit about what anyone thought or how the outcome would play out. I didn't care how they saw me as long as they knew I was the one to fear.

Right before she rounded the corner and would have disappeared into the back room, she glanced over her shoulder at me. Our eyes locked, hers flaring slightly, because no doubt she hadn't expected me to be watching her so closely. I could practically hear the surprised—maybe frightened—inhalation she took. She was afraid, and rightly—smartly—so.

I could've said I wouldn't hurt her, but she would have known that was a lie. And so would I.

She disappeared behind the door, and I drew my attention back to the drunk. I could envision myself killing him ten different ways. At the very thought of ending his life, immense satisfaction ran through me. I fantasized about gouging out his eyes for simply looking at the little waitress. He was the type of man who deserved death ten times over for the heinous crimes he'd committed in life.

I should know, because I deserved it as well.

Lina came out a few minutes later, the jacket she wore light blue in color, faded, and older, with one hand tucked into a pocket. She had her backpack slung over her shoulders, her head tipped down, the long fall of her hair shrouding her profile from me.

She quickly made her way through the diner before opening the door and stepping outside, not once looking at me again. Movement to my left had me slowly looking at the drunk. He pulled his stumbling ass out of the booth, his focus on the door Lina had just left out of. Every muscle in my body tightened in preparation to go after him, knowing exactly what he was doing, knowing the opportunity he saw in this moment.

I left the diner, keeping to the shadows once outside, and immediately spotted Lina up ahead. She moved quickly and was scanning her surroundings. Definitely not a stranger to being on guard.

But she wasn't alone. I couldn't see him yet, but I felt my skin tightening, a familiar feeling that covered me when I needed to be on alert. And then I saw him, the fucker keeping close to the buildings, staying within the shadows. He stalked her, and even from my vantage point, I could see a tenseness across Lina's shoulders.

She knew she wasn't alone. She could feel it. Whether she could see the bastard following her, I didn't know, but I did notice the way she kept her hand in the pocket of her coat. I knew she had a weapon tucked within.

Smart girl.

I crept closer, my muscles even tighter, my body poised to attack. I felt that familiar bloodlust move through me.

Bloodlust—he and I were old friends.

And then the asshole attacked, lunging for Lina and quickly wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulled her into a darkened corner. I picked up my pace to eat the distance and stopped when I rounded the corner of the building. I saw him only a few feet ahead, his hand around her throat, her eyes wide as she clawed with one hand at where he gripped her.

I was about to bash his skull into the side of the brick building when she pulled out a small canister, pointed it at his face, and doused the fucker in the eyes with pepper spray.

He cursed low, a string of profanities as he let her go and stumbled back, his hands frantically wiping away at his face. I was about to attack, when she reared her leg back and kicked him in the balls, making him crumble to the ground.

Fierce, dark desire shot through me at the fight in her, at how she stood up for herself. I felt the stirring of that pleasure in my cock, my breathing increasing, my heart racing. God, she was gorgeous as she stared down at the fucker with this fierceness and need for survival covering her face.

And then she darted off in the other direction, running fast and hard, her steps echoing off the tall buildings until it was just the prick and me in the alleyway.

I curled my hands into tight fists, then relaxed them. I did this over and over again as I moved closer to him. He struggled to stand up, one hand covering his balls, the other palm still wiping away at his eyes. My boot kicked away a stray piece of glass, and he stilled, looking in the direction the sound came from, his body freezing.

"Who's there?" He tried to sound stronger than he was. He reached into his jacket to produce a knife, moving it back and forth in front of him as if that would stop me from what I was about to do.

I kept enough distance to where his blade couldn't touch me, but it wouldn't matter if he did get me. It wouldn't do much damage. My tolerance for pain was so high I wouldn't even feel the blade sinking into my flesh, wouldn't think twice about wrapping my hands around the edge until it dug into my skin, sliced me up, and covered the ground in blood. In fact… I anticipated whatever pain he thought he could inflict.

I looked at his hand that was wrapped tightly around the handle, remembering how he'd curled his fingers around Lina's slender neck. I had no doubt she'd have a mark come morning. And that had my rage intensifying. I'd already decided to kill him, but now I'd make his death excruciating.

In a move so fast he wouldn't have been able to stop me even if he could've seen, I had his knife in my hand and my fingers wrapped around his thick throat. He was strong, even in his intoxicated state. But I was stronger.

The stench of him was overpowering, but I leaned my full weight into his body, bringing us closer, cutting off his airflow until he started clawing at my hand, desperate to suck oxygen into his lungs.

I said nothing. There were no words that needed to be spoken. I was going to take his life as easily as if I blew out a candle, and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd signed his death warrant the moment he looked at Lina. He'd accepted this fact the moment he laid a hand on her.

And I didn't try to sift through why I felt so strongly about this, about her. It was just this feeling that needed to consume me, or nothing was right and good in my life. It was this powerful urge to take out any threat that presented itself to her.

I would be her defender. I would be her assassin.

He started struggling less, his body relaxing farther as he got weaker, as asphyxiation claimed its icy, dark hold on him. I lifted the knife and looked at the blade, the serrated edge gleaming and sharp. This wasn't just a simple weapon. This was a hunting knife, one meant to field dress an animal in the wild.

And I was going to use it on him in the most brutal fashion imaginable.

His gasps were weak but pained, his fear tangible in the air. I let go of his throat and let him crumble to the ground. He gasped louder, already sucking in copious amounts of oxygen. I crouched in front of him, gripped his meaty forearm, and pressed it to the brick of the building.

And then as I looked into his face, his eyes swollen shut from the pepper spray, tears covering his cheeks, sweat coating his forehead, I took that blade and started sawing at his wrist. His cries were loud and would have drawn attention if we weren't in Desolation. But he'd find no hope or rescue in this city. They'd hear his pleas and screams of pain and go in the other direction.

The sound of bone crunching apart from the blade, of flesh being torn away filled my ears. The scent of coppery blood filled my nose, surrounding me in a grizzly depiction of what my life was. Of who I was.

His hand fell to the dirty alley ground with a thud , spurts of blood spraying out from the stump that topped his forearm, splattering against my hand and arm. He was weeping as if he were the victim.

I let go of his wrist and stood, taking a step back and appreciating my work. He cradled his arm to his chest, his tears now from pain and fear. But I wasn't done with him yet.

I reached down and curled my fingers around his neck again, lifting him easily off the ground. He didn't struggle anymore, too weak, too afraid. He kept pleading, kept whimpering.

And still I didn't fucking care.

I wished I could look into his eyes and watch the light fade.

I ran the blade down the center of his chest, causing him to still, to pant. It would be so easy—feel so good—to just sink the knife into his belly and jerk it upward, opening him up so his intestines covered the ground. But instead I placed the tip right over his crotch and watched him hold his breath and freeze.

A slow smile covered my face as adrenaline moved through me even faster. I slammed the blade into his dick and let it sink in just enough before I twisted the handle and jerked it upward, opening up the part he would have used to brutalize Lina.

He screamed and thrashed, a burst of survival energy moving through him. I pulled the knife out and let him go before stepping back, letting him sink to the ground. He'd bleed out soon enough from the arm wound and now what I'd done to his dick.

I bent down to wipe the blood off his blade on his shirt but kept the weapon. I didn't need to wait around to make sure he'd die. The wounds I'd inflicted on him were sufficient, and my knowledge on how to deliver a deathblow was accurate. The fucker would be found at some point, tomorrow no doubt, but it would just be another body found in Desolation with no leads.

When I left the alley, I should have gone home to shower the death and violence off me, but I found myself heading in the opposite direction, toward the one woman I should leave alone.

Five minutes later I stood outside of Lina's apartment building in the shadows and stared up at what I knew was her bedroom window. When I found out her address and what apartment she lived in, I'd walked by more than once. I turned into the stalker I'd never been.

The bass of music came from one of the many dilapidated homes, the scent of stale smoke and car exhaust a constraint in the air. I moved closer to a sparse-looking tree on the verge of dying in the "backyard" of the building.

I made my way to the tree, my focus never leaving Lina's bedroom window. The moon was bright enough that it cast light over the back of the building, allowing me to see her tiny shape moving behind the sheet.

I still held the knife in my palm, had the fucker's blood drying on my hands and clothes. Adrenaline was humming through my veins, a high an addict would kill for.

And they did. I did.

I had no business being here, being close to her. I shouldn't have followed her, but I wanted to protect her. I wanted to make sure that her almost assault hadn't hurt her more than I knew about.

I didn't know what was happening to me, and I should have put her behind me as easily as I did everything else. But then this vulnerable, tiny woman had inserted herself into my life unknowingly, crossing paths with the hungry wolf. And as I stood there, wanting nothing more than to go to her, to tell her she was mine, I knew how dangerous that was for her. For me.

I knew how dangerous she truly was to me .

And even if I should've left her alone, put her out of my head and my life, I knew the outcome would always be the same.

I'd go to the diner tomorrow night. I'd watch her, talk to her. I couldn't help it, because the truth was, for the first time in my miserable fucking existence, I had a weakness… and that was Lina.

And, God help her, I didn't want to be strong.

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