Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(5)

The most I’d done was smack Balen’s girl, Danni, when she’d been in a full-blown panic and I couldn’t get through to her. It was to shock her. It worked. She snapped out of it.

Of course, if the chick was a CWO bitch Lilac or a vampire, my morals shifted.

Shit, the witch Trinity deserved a knife in the heart, but I’d never hit her. Pathetic *s hit women.

And now, seeing dickhead with a gun to her head, it seriously pissed me off. Given, I was easily pissed off, but this was more than that.

What I was about to do was irrational and would put both of our lives at risk, but I rarely thought about consequences. I acted on gut instinct and lived with the outcome.

Her russet eyes widened at something over my left shoulder.

Fuck.

I leapt forward at the same time as a gunshot exploded behind me. A searing pain hit the back of my shoulder as I slammed into the girl and her captor. We crashed to the floor, and the gun he’d held to her head slid across the linoleum.

I moved to my knees and, at the same time, hooked my arm around her waist, yanking her away from dickhead, then shoved her aside before I turned and fired my gun at whoever had put the f*ckin’ lead in my shoulder.

“Put it down,” a woman shouted from the end of the corridor.

I snorted and slowly smiled. Bitch had no idea who she was dealing with. I wasn’t going to hit her, but I was definitely going to kill her. “Fuck you.”

I shot a round in her direction, but the woman dove into an alcove. I leapt to my feet at the same time as dickhead scrambled to his knees and went for his gun.

I fired.

He rolled and the bullet ricocheted off the floor.

The air shifted and a familiar scent wafted into me from the direction of the woman who shot me—Fuck. That was the smell of lilac and that meant a CWO Lilac.

Lilacs were dangerous and rare. They had webs that shot from their fingertips that could trap you in a cocoon. And not sticky, soft webs, these had to be cut off with a f*ckin’ knife.

There weren’t many of them around, and I hadn’t seen one in years. Made me wonder why the hell one was here, because they certainly weren’t fans of humans.

Lilacs lured men to their beds then trapped them in their cocoon, sometimes for weeks or months, the webs soaking up nourishment and feeding the Lilac for her to stay alive. And since Lilacs were beautiful, they easily wooed unsuspecting men.

I sure as hell didn’t want to mess with one when I had the girl, Rayne, to keep safe. “Babe, we need out. Now.” I grabbed the back of Rayne’s sweatshirt and hauled her to her feet while running for the door leading outside. I snatched the knife Rayne had dropped off the floor as we ran.

“A blast about now would come in handy,” I said using telepathy to speak with Quill.

“Location?” he asked.

“West doors. We’re fifty feet away, so don’t blow us up for f*ck’s sake.”

“Right. On it,” he replied.

Within seconds, a loud blast vibrated the ground, throwing dickhead off balance and giving me the opportunity I needed. I aimed and fired as I ran, hitting the baldheaded bastard in the chest.

His body slammed into the wall and blood stained his grey shirt.

His eyes widened and his hands went to the fatal wound before his body slumped, sliding down the white wall, leaving behind a streak of blood.

The two steel foyer doors exploded and the metal frame crumpled. The girl stopped to look at me, but I kept running as I pushed her ahead of me. “Outside.” I turned to cover our backs while she climbed through the wreckage.

I waited until she was clear before shooting off a few rounds toward the direction of the Lilac, although I couldn’t see or scent her anymore. It wasn’t like a Lilac to run from a fight, but then, her being here was f*cked up.

I waited a few more seconds to make sure we weren’t followed then shoved through the damaged doors. The sunlight blinded me for a second and I didn’t see them right away.

But when I did, anger erupted like a building tsunami.

The hilt of the knife dug into my hand as my grip tightened. The gun lay in the other, my finger twitching on the trigger.

Mr. Pompous-ass husband stood with his hands in a chokehold around Rayne’s neck as he dangled her off the ground. Her lips quivered and turned blue as she struggled for air while her hands clawed at his vicious hold, feet kicking and body wiggling as she fought for air.

A trickle of blood slipped from the corner of her mouth and white-hot anger ignited into a volcano of rage.

Disgusting, pathetic bastard. I f*ckin’ hated this *. Hated most people, but there were levels, and her husband took the top level of me willing to do anything to see him die under my knife.

“Calm down, man. Don’t get her killed acting stupid,” Quill said. “On my way.”

There was one choice. One chance. “I never act stupid.”

“You won’t get away with this,” her husband shouted at me. “She’ll come after you—”

I threw my knife before he said another word.

It drove into his shoulder, skimming Rayne’s ear and a drop of blood dripped onto her shirt. He wailed in pain and let her go, his hand reaching for the knife to yank it out.

She fell to her hands and knees on the gravel, head bowed as she sucked in large gasps of air.

Her husband threw the knife aside and pulled out a gun from beneath his jacket.