Page 107 of Raze
Thorne makes a gargling sound. It looks like I won’t be getting any answers from him since I acted too rashly with that knife and cut into his vocal cords. I can’t regret the action, though. He’d dared aim the knife at Raegan.
Now, all I care about is his death. And the promises that I need to fulfill.
I drop him to the ground and get to work, divesting him of his ears and tongue as I’d once sworn to do. I remove his head last, using a collapsible bone saw I brought with me for this trip.
When I’m done, I stand above him and wipe the blood from my mouth and nose with the back of my sleeve. “Let’s see you come back from this.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Raegan
It’s not every dayyou see a man you think you’re falling in love with cutting off the head of your enemy. I try not to think about the sound the metal made against bone, and shiver, anyway. Is it any more disgusting than breaking someone down from the inside out? No. Is the sound going to still spring up out of nowhere to give me nightmares in my future?
Probably.
As soon as he’s done, I call out his name. I need to see his face. To look upon my shadow and savior. My nightmare and hero.
He turns. His face and neck are covered in blood. His hood dropped from his head at some point, so his black hair is exposed and disheveled. I’d put money down that there’s blood in that, too, but his hair does just as well as his hoodie and pants at hiding it.
I’ll need a closer look if I’m going to find and assess his injuries.
His expression is serene, and that’s what worries me most when I look at him. He’s just brutally killed a man, and I know he’s hurting from that first attack Thorne threw at him. But one wouldn’t knowit by looking at his face. It’s like he’s above all of that and is now content with all that’s happened, as if it had all gone to plan.
“Jack,” I say again when he doesn’t move more than that. His deep blue eyes snap to mine. Then they run over my body, like they’re seeking any injury or if I need anything. I was able to get one ankle free during the fight, but I’m not going to lie. I stopped everything I was doing when Jackson turned the tables on Thorne.
He takes a step toward me, and then he flinches, and his face tightens.
Shit. He’s really hurt.
I bend forward to try working on my other ankle.
“Let me.” His husky voice is even lower than usual, but he’s crouched at my feet, so I hear him clearly all the same. Jackson takes the picks from my hands and gets to work on my ankle.
Copper fills my nose at his proximity, and I have to take a slow breath through my mouth to keep from gagging. Is it from Thorne or…?
My fingers move on instinct to the back of Jackson’s hoodie while he’s bent over my foot. I lift them up after a simple touch of his saturated hoodie, knowing the moment I make contact that it’s his blood. I stare at the bright red liquid on my fingers.
This is bad.
His head pops up to look toward the wall, and his eyes narrow. “They’re coming,” he tells me right before focusing back on my ankle.
I mentally curse that we don’t have more time. I shouldn’t be surprised with all the noise likely coming from this room betweenhim and Thorne. Or had they watched it all through some cameras to wait for a victor before coming in?
“Got it.” Jackson directs my foot out of the cuff. He uses his gift, I think, to help himself stand because I feel a soft breeze around my legs when he does so. His fingers rub against the collar, and his lips purse. “I’ll get this off once we’re hidden somewhere. We need to get out of here first. Can you use your gift?”
I close my eyes and reach for it, seeking that burning sensation in my gut that usually jumps at the chance to be used, but the container there is still empty. My eyes open. He nods like he can read the answer in them.
He takes my hand and guides me to one of the large windows. There’s something small in the grasp of his other hand, but it fits in it so well that I can’t really tell what he’s holding. Only that there’s a small metal point sticking out from one side that he pounds into the window. Cracks spider from the impact, but they’re small and tight. He does it again and again, and the cracks widen and spread until my hair flies about while he brings his gift into play and the window shatters.
Jackson knocks a few more bits of glass away to give us a wide enough opening. We’re still a few stories off the ground, though, so I’m not sure how he plans on us getting down there with him injured as much as he is.
He uses his gift to swing me up into his arms, and then he gives the barest of grunts when my weight settles into him. I hate that he has to do this, but I don’t see another way out.
The door to the meeting room opens. My eyes lock withGordon’s a second before Jack jumps out the window, and we sail down to the top of a palm tree. We hop a few more times before he brings us to the ground.
Jackson’s knees buckle as soon as his feet hit the ground, and I drop onto his thighs. I scramble off of him so I’m not weighing him down any longer, then turn to help him up. His jaw is tight, and there’s sweat sliding down the side of his face. His eyes are glazed, and he blinks rapidly. He’s going to fucking pass out.
I hurriedly check around us for somewhere to hide and find a shed maybe a hundred steps away. About a hundred too many, but it’s the only option to give me the time I need to get this damn collar off. If I can get my gift back, we'll still have a fighting chance.
