Page 195 of Adam
I keep walking, the machete hanging loose in my grip, eyes locked on his.
Every thought in my head screams for more blood.
“No, Adam, wait?—”
Too late.
The blade comes down and takes his head off.
“I never liked that asshole,” Wes snaps, stepping up beside me, a knife clenched in his good hand. His lip’s busted, one eye a little swollen, but he’s standing tall. “Always ran his mouth too much. Should’ve capped him yesterday.”
“Glad to see you’re still alive. At least now I’ll get to kill you myself.”
He snorts, shakes his head, and flashes that crooked smirk. “You ain’t shit. Your tricks didn’t work. Just like their busted-ass guns. That was a lucky shot.”
I give him a wink. “I had an old friend deactivate their guns.”
He raises an eyebrow. “And how the hell did you know they’d pulled it off?”
“I didn’t.”
He stares at me. “What?”
“I gambled.”
Wes clicks his tongue and exhales through his nose, trying not to laugh. “Asshole.”
“Dickhead.”
Suddenly, the air tastes like metal.
No, it’s not the air—it can’t be the air. My teeth clamp down, jaw locking as the first pulse rips through me.
“Adam, no!” Isabella shrieks across the room.
The current tears through me, and every muscle jerks hard enough to crack teeth.
Fuck …
I’ve experienced this before. I know how to fight it.
Fuck, Manson, ground yourself.
Control your breathing.
Ride it out.
Don’t let them see you break.
“Let him go!” she screams, louder.
Another surge hits, and my vision fractures into white shards. My spine and back bow.
And then …
Darkness.
Nothing.
