Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(64)

“I was going to be nice. Now I’m not.” He leapt to his feet, taking me with him, one hand still locked in my hair and the other on my upper arm. I reached up with both hands, trying to alleviate the pain in my scalp, but he yanked hard and I lost my balance and fell to my knees, screaming as a sharp jolt shot through them.

“Get up, bitch.” He pulled on my arm and I was forced to my feet or have my arm dislocated. “Outside now.”

Scream. Scream until your lungs bleed.

“Help! Help me!”

He released my hair and shoved me so hard against the wall that the back of my head made an indent in the drywall. Then he was on me, his eyes blazing red as he grabbed both my shoulders and shook me.

“A fighter. I was told you were meek and pathetic.”

I jammed my knee up between his legs and his eyes widened before he collapsed to the ground, shrieking in agony. Vampire or not, they all had the same equipment, and Roarke had told me to use that move if Ben ever got too close to me.

I ran for the back door because his body blocked me from the front and I didn’t want to chance going by him. I fell against it, hands on the doorknob, frantically turning.

Open, damn it. Open.

Which way did I turn it? My hands shook so badly I couldn’t turn the stupid doorknob. Why wouldn’t it open? Bolt. Deadbolt. I quickly flipped the deadbolt and flung the door open.

The night air wafted over me as I ran out into the back alley. I managed twenty feet before he staggered out after me. I didn’t look back. I had to reach the main street. Someone would see—

I heard a bang at the same time as a sharp pain hit the back of my thigh and my leg gave out. I crashed to the pavement.

My hand went to my thigh and felt warm, wet blood seeping through the material of my gown.

Oh, God, he shot me.

I glanced over my shoulder as he approached. “Go ahead. Run. I like nothing better than a wounded bitch with the scent of blood all over her.”

I swallowed the bile in my throat and I tried to get to my feet.

He laughed as he continued to walk toward me.

No. God, no.

Past horrors flashed before my eyes—the isolation, the fear to sleep, to wake. I couldn’t live like that again. I’d rather die.

Serafina. I didn’t know if she still lived inside me, but my tattoo was my only hope.

Rise, Serafina. Breathe. Fight for me. Protect me.

I crawled along the pavement toward the streetlights as I called to my tattoo Serafina over and over again.

Footsteps ran toward me.

Oh, God. I crawled to my feet again just as arms wrapped around me, pulling me backward into him.

“No,” I screamed and flailed against his hold. I would never give up fighting. Never again.





“BABE, BABE, IT’S ME. Shhh. It’s all right. I have you.” Kilter’s voice broke through my cries and sank into my panicked mind.

I stopped struggling but my chest heaved in and out and my heart slammed against my rib cage. “Kilter?” He was here? But where was the—

“He’s gone, babe.” He smoothed back my hair and said gently, “He can’t hurt you. I got you.”

This was a side of Kilter that hid behind the rude and abrupt comments. Soft caresses trickled down my back, whispers of soothing murmurs as he held me in his protective embrace.

“You came back,” I whispered.

“Told you, just needed time to cool off.”

I gave a pained smile. “Ten minutes?”

“Don’t need much,” he replied. “Come on. We need to get you to Anstice. There’s blood all over your gown.” He swung me up into his arms and I curled into his shielding warmth. “I heard a gunshot.”

I nodded. I couldn’t see my leg from my gown, but I saw the blood, and there was a lot of it. “He shot me in the leg.”

“Fuck,” he grunted. He jogged down the alley to his car and placed me in the front seat. He leaned over me and pulled the seatbelt across before yanking up my gown. “Shift up, so I can see it,” he demanded.

I put my weight on my left hip and he examined the back of my lower thigh. “Need to stop the bleeding.” He undid his belt, yanked it off, looped it twice around my thigh above the wound then pulled tight and buckled it. I gasped, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “That should hold until we get there.”

He shut my door, ran around to the other side of the car, and leapt in. Then he drove like a maniac, and car horns blared as he weaved in and out, ignoring red lights and stop signs. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

God, why did I feel so cold and tired.

“Damn it.” Kilter’s hand came down hard on my shoulder and he shook me, causing the car to swerve. “Rayne!”

I tried to focus on him, but my vision blurred. “Kilter?” He looked worried. Why was he worried? Was I going to die? I didn’t want to die. Not now.

Not after fighting so hard to live.

And not before I saw Kilter’s eyes look at me again like I was his savior. Like I mattered.

“Rayne, open your eyes.”

I slipped into a black void of darkness.





“Rayne, open your eyes.” Fuck. I swerved into the curb, taking a corner too fast, and clipped another car that honked and pulled over. I didn’t.