Bloodshed (Order of the Unseen, #1)(35)

“What’s going on?” I ask, feeling like the room is closing in around me.

“They’re dead,” he declares, his face contorted with rage. “I’m going to fucking kill them, Micah.”

“Woah,” I rush out, planting my hands on his shoulders. “Who? What the hell happened?”

His nostrils flare as his chest grows larger and larger, expanding with fury. “She was bullied,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “So badly that she hurt herself. She fucking hurt herself, Micah—”

“Damien,” I urge, trying to calm him down. “Hurt herself? How?”

“Her wrists, man. I’m going to slaughter them—”

My stomach sinks. Taking his face between my hands, I stare him straight in the eyes. “We,” I correct. “We are going to slaughter them.”

He looks away from me, leaning into my touch as he battles with his own inner turmoil. I can’t imagine how triggering this must be for him.

Especially after what he witnessed with his mother.

Her dying in his arms.

Damien turns away, storming down the hall as I follow behind him. “Don’t you fret, little Quinn,” he says as he enters the room. I stand in the doorway silently, boiling with anger. “They’re going to pay for what they did to you.” He steps between Quinn and Jensen, and kisses her forehead tenderly. “They’re going to pay with their life.”

Yes.

They are.





DAMIEN





The motorcycle engines roar as we speed down the street. The brisk, night air sends goosebumps all over my body, yet my blood is boiling. Quinn wraps her arms tighter around my waist, and I grip just above her knee with my hand in return, comforting her.

She melts against me.

We turn into an empty lot, surrounded by woods. My thoughts are in shambles. I can’t think straight. I’m losing my goddamn mind.

All I can think about is killing every last one of Quinn’s bullies. They’re going to get what’s coming to them.

After we park our motorcycles, we cut the engines, and Halloween-themed music plays in the distance. It’s the tune of Michael Myers’ theme song.

How fitting.

“Just for you, Mike,” I say to Micah, before helping Quinn off my bike. Micah lets out an unimpressed laugh and shakes his head at me. I undo the buckle of Quinn’s helmet and pull it off her head before draping it over the handlebar.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“Back entrance,” Jensen jokes.

Her body stiffens once she realizes where we are. “We’re at the haunt?” she asks.

“Don’t you want to have some real fun?” I ask, adjusting my mask. “Let’s pay your bullies a visit. It’s time for revenge.”

“I don’t want them to see me,” she stutters, following behind us as we enter the dark, wooded area.

“You don’t have to, baby,” I coo, linking my gloved fingers through hers. “Leave that part to us.”

Micah leads the way with the flashlight of his phone. The music grows louder with each passing minute. The atmosphere is supposed to be frightening, but they’ve done a lousy fucking job. Screams from guests echo through the night air.

I stifle back laughter.

They’re about to scream for real.

We come across a cornfield and head toward the side entrance to the haunted house. Quinn squeezes my hand out of fear, and when I glance down at her, my heart hammers. I can’t fathom how anyone could ever want to hurt such a precious soul.

She’s innocent in every sense of the word.

My blood boils with rage, and my body tenses. It’s my job to protect her. To keep her safe. And I will do anything to ensure that she is never bullied by these fuckers again.

Coming across a group of four, we stand behind the trees, watching the glow sticks grow brighter and brighter as they approach us.

Micah jumps out into the dimly-lit path, catching the group off guard. All of them let out a bloodcurdling shriek as they run from us in horror. Jensen laughs.

Except I don’t know how anyone could laugh right now.

I just want to commit the most gruesome murder possible.

And I will.

“What are you going to do?” Quinn speaks up, staring into the dark eyes of my mask.

I’m going to fucking slaughter them, baby.

“I’m going to scare them,” I grit out instead. “I want to see the fear in their eyes.”

Jensen slows his pace, facing us as he walks backward. “How many?” he questions.

“They all work in the haunted house,” she answers sheepishly, tightening her grip on my hand once more. “Every single one of them.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Jensen mutters, locking his eyes with mine.

“It’s fine,” I say dismissively. Finally, we come to a halt, and I lower my head, staring deeply into her eyes. “I need names.”

“Names?” she asks.

“Name the ones who were the worst,” I order. “The ones who really hurt you.”

Her face hardens. Memories come flashing back to her, and although I just want to bring her into my arms and console her, I have business to tend to.

“The guys were the worst,” she replies. My jaw tightens, and so does my grip on her hand. “Derek. John. And Alex,” she finishes.