Chapter 6

I 'm covered in blood and spoiled coffee. I look insane right now, but I guess that's a good look for what we plan on doing. As Sam drags me down another deserted road, my heart thumps against my chest. We could run into someone at any moment, and there are no buildings or alleyways to hide us now. I said we should stay back and wait, but Sam thinks we have a better chance of finding someone closer to the town's center.

I trip and fall forward, my wrists skidding along the cobblestone path. It's my favorite thing about the town, and now my blood is staining the ancient stones.

"Come on, get up!" Sam says in a harsh whisper. His head swivels in all directions, scanning the open space for anyone.

We really are sitting ducks right here.

I climb to my knees and scramble back to my feet. We take off toward the shops, but I stop mid-step as we reach the strip of stores. The word "traitor" has been scrawled on the brick in black paint. My eyes slowly rise to find a man hanging above it. His body swings listlessly, and it looks like he was tossed from the roof.

Which means they've been here.

I'm tempted to tell Sam never mind, that we should just go home, but then my father flashes into my mind again. I remember how he looked, slumped on our front porch. I hardly recall pulling the nail from his skull, but the memory of the blood pouring in a thick line down his face burns brightly. So does the blood coating his eyes as he cried. And the way crimson ribbons poured from his mouth before his head dropped back.

These painful memories remind me why I'm doing this. This is my only chance for another decade, and I can't miss it. I can't.

"Get your shit together. They've already been here, and we're out in the open!" Sam yells, but his voice sounds so far away.

I'm guessing the grim memories have frozen me in place and left me lost in a time I don't want to live in any longer. My body shakes, and that drags me from my mind and sets me back in the middle of the street. I look around, orienting myself. He's right, we have to get going, and fast.

Because footsteps are running toward us now.

We both look at each other with similar panic in our eyes. Sam grabs my arm and pulls me around the corner and to the front of the building. I peer past the edge and see a man in a suit. He raises a metal bat and swings it against another man's head. The hollow thunk as metal collides with bone is a sound I won't soon forget.

When I catch a glimpse of the man on the ground, I recognize him as the homeless man from earlier. His head is split open, falling apart in two distinct segments, but his hands keep moving, reaching toward his assailant. He's fucking alive.

Oh god.

I throw my hand over my mouth to suppress the agonizing scream twisting through my throat. Tears stream down my face in thick lines. I mumble words beneath my hand, and Sam slaps at the back of it.

"I can't understand you," he whispers.

"The man . . . the homeless guy. His head . . ."

"Wait, you saw them? Who did it?"

"There are two men. One is wearing a suit, and the other is missing his jacket. But Sam, the homeless guy is still alive."

"There's nothing we can do for him, Alli."

"We can't leave him."

"We have to. Come on."

"No!"

"You cannot help that man. Stop being stubborn. Come on!" He stands, grips my hand, and tries to haul me away, but I won't be moved.

Anger brews inside me and replaces my absolute fear. I pull the pistol from my waistband and cradle it in my lap.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Sam warns.

Oh, I'm thinking about it.

"You know what?" he says. "Get yourself killed, then. I don't care."

He takes off down the road.

Thanks, dude.

I grab my phone and dial 911, but a robotic voice tells me the line is out of service. How? It's fucking 911.

If no help is coming, I need to put the man out of his misery. It's the least I can do. I can't listen to the sound of him dying for a moment longer.

I step into the road and fight the urge to aim my pistol at the poor man on the ground, whose eye hangs out of one half of his head. His hand still moves on his lap, and my heart breaks.

"Hands up, asshole," I say to the man in front of me. A black wolf mask covers his face. My eyes scan around me, trying to find the guy with the bat, but I don't see him.

"What do you want?" the man says, raising his hands in the air. An ice pick balances between his fingers.

"What you goddamn pussies wouldn't do," I say as I step sideways, keeping my pistol on him. I draw the knife from my hip and sink the blade into the side of the homeless man's neck. When I yank the blade away, a red jet squirts onto the cobblestone path.

"Unless you want to draw attention of all of us, I don't think you'll fire that weapon," the masked man says.

"If that didn't show you that I can kill a man, I don't know what will," I say. "How many of you are there?"

As he cocks his head, I can almost see his smirk behind the mask.

Footsteps encroach from the left, and the man with the bat appears from the shadows. A gold bird mask covers his features. As soon as he sees what he's walked in on, he lowers the bat to his side.

"Don't fucking move or I'll rearrange your face with a bullet," I say as I aim my gun at him.

"Shoot her, Knox!" the gold mask says. An uncomfortable laugh follows his words. He steps closer to the black-masked man and points the bat at me. "Kill that bitch!"

Only then do I notice the pistol in wolf mask's—Knox's—waistband.