Vicious Cycle (Vicious Cycle #1)(88)

As I thrust out the cut to him, I frantically kept my grip on the knife, fearing my sweaty fingers would slide and drop it. When he started to reach for it, the world around me slowed to a crawl. For just an instant, I stepped outside of myself, surveying the situation.

The woman I saw was a caged animal with a feral gleam in her eyes. She swayed like a cobra in a life-and-death dance, waiting for the right moment to strike. The man fixated all his attention on the sacred object in front of him. As his hand ran over the leather, tears pooled in his eyes.

It was in that moment that everything changed, and the woman I had been before was forever changed.

With Sigel’s emotions paralyzing him, I acted on his momentary weakness. A physical strength I didn’t know I had propelled me forward. Snatching out the knife, I gripped the heavy blade in my fist, my knuckles turning white from the tension. Pulling my arm back, I then launched myself at Sigel’s neck.

I had no idea what stabbing someone entailed. Would the knife cut through the skin easily, or would it be hard? The force with which I plunged the knife into Sigel’s artery buried the blade. Blood spewed from the wound. As I stood there with my knife in his neck, Sigel’s wide-eyed gaze slowly swept from the cut to my eyes.

“You should have never underestimated me,” I told him.

Not wanting to risk that he could survive the injuries I’d inflicted, I didn’t jerk out the knife. Instead, I braced myself and sliced through the tendons and muscles on his neck as his arms flailed up to stop me until I hit his collarbone and could go no further.

Sigel’s expression flickered between emotions like a flashing sign. Grief to disbelief to pain to rage. Just as I started to pull the knife out, Sigel’s gaze met mine. We momentarily stared each other down. Then he lunged at me, his hands coming around my throat. I gasped and wheezed for air as I swung my arm with the knife blindingly forward. It caught Sigel in the biceps, causing him to momentarily loosen his grip.

I stabbed him once again before he knocked my arm back, sending the knife clattering to the floor. Just as he began to squeeze my throat harder, Sigel’s knees gave way. Collapsing to the floor, he dragged me down with him. His hands abandoned my neck, and I rolled to the side to gasp for breath.

When the world around me started to turn black, I fought with everything within me to keep conscious. With my breath coming easier, I began to attempt to crawl away, to reach the knife that was just out of my grip. Once I had it in my hands, I staggered to my feet.

Staring down at Sigel, I eyed the mutilations on his body, which I’d inflicted with the borrowed knife—I’d had no idea such a ferocity was hidden within me. In a way, it frightened me more than consoled me. Although it was for those I loved most, I had transitioned far too easily into the outlaw realm.

When Sigel’s gaze flickered to mine, a cruel smile formed on my lips. I wasn’t quite finished with him yet. “Just so you know, Deacon Malloy is alive and well.”

A gurgling rattle of a laugh escaped Sigel’s bloodstained lips. “Expect me to believe that?” he rasped.

“You should. Why would I have any reason to lie? He never got into the house that day. He was off in the woods, chasing our puppy. He hid out at my house for two days. Then he had his own resurrection. He’s at the Raiders compound right now, handcuffed to a bed.” I narrowed my eyes at Sigel. “I wasn’t going to let him f*ck with my revenge on you.”

Recognition slowly flashed across his face, and I knew then he believed me. And with sick vindication, I got to watch Sigel take his last breath with the revelations that he would never get his revenge on Deacon and that he had been taken down by a woman.

My knees gave way, and I sank down onto the bloody tile. A commotion above me startled a scream from me. In a cloud of dust and debris, Archer collapsed down beside me from the ceiling. Once he recovered, he reached out for me. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m f-fine,” I stammered.

Archer glanced over my shoulder. “Fuck me. You actually did it.”

“Yeah, I did.” That statement caused a tremor to run through me. My abdomen clenched, and I turned and emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor at Archer’s feet. “I’m sorry,” I moaned, when I saw what I had done.

“It’s okay.” He rose to his feet and then pulled me up.

On shaky legs, I surveyed the gap in the ceiling tile where Archer had come through. “Your idea really worked, huh?” To keep out of Sigel’s eye and suspicion, Archer had relied on his electrician father’s background. Through my bracelet, he had tracked my movements from above me in the school’s ceiling. I didn’t want to begin to know how he had broken into the mechanical closet, but he had found a way.

He grinned. “Yeah, it did. Fix it back for me, okay?” He then gripped me around the waist and hoisted me up. I slid the tile back into its place. We couldn’t leave it as it was. It wouldn’t corroborate with our story.

When he set me back down on my feet, he placed a chaste, tender kiss on my cheek. “I’m so f*cking proud of you.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, my emotions still overwrought from what had just happened. Then I realized that precious time was ticking. “Come on. We gotta get busy.”

He nodded. I handed him the bag, and he took out a clean pair of clothes—a janitor’s uniform, actually. I didn’t bother looking away as he stripped. I’d been through too much tonight to care about any false modesty. Instead, I took the knife, gritted my teeth, and then slashed cuts along my arms and legs. A wildfire of pain burned its way through my limbs as the metallic smell of my own blood entered my nose.