Page 75 of Blood Code

The song changed to Survivor, the 2WEI version.

“Oh, don’t be shy, my darlings. If one of you catches me, maybe you can fuck me.”

Another crazed laugh escaped me as I dropped into a fighting stance.

Three men rushed me at once, but I was scrappy and fucking fast, and the beat of the music fueled me. I moved like lightning, slashing and dodging between them, until the others decided to attack all at once.

And it might have worked if I wasn’t still a fucking dead girl, because whenever they got too close or tried to wrap their arms around me, I disappeared between their fingers.

Weakness spread over my bones. Switching between forms was costing far, far too much. But it didn’t matter because only two men remained.

Panting and barely able to keep myself upright, I yanked a knife from one man’s torso and hurled it at another cowering in the corner. The blade sank into his back, puncturing a lung. He’d drown slowly in his own blood.

Too bad.

My lips curled into a feral smile as I faced my final opponent. The man looked like he’d pissed himself.

“Not so scary when someone bigger and stronger than you takes you on, are you?” I asked mockingly.

Obviously, I was far, far smaller than him.

He whimpered. “Please, I have a family. A wife and children.”

“Does she know you rent and rape helpless women?” I dragged the tip of my knife along my lips.

He stumbled backward, trying to escape me.

“She doesn’t, does she?” I asked. “Probably for the best. How could a woman ever respect a man like you?”

I took a step toward him, but my knee buckled and it took all of my balance to keep myself on my feet.

I’d expended too much energy, and a crash was coming. Sabine had warned me about just this moment. I wanted to extend this final victim’s torture out longer, maybe over days, forcing the sick fucks on the livestream to watch me gut him.

But my body would give out long before that happened.

So with one of my remaining knives, I drove the blade straight into his eye, burying it deep in the socket. A shudder ran through me. Squishy and wet. Disgusting stuff.

And when I pulled my knife free, I almost vomited because it made a soft, wet pop.

Bile rose in my throat. It was so gross.

I raised my last knife toward the camera. “I am coming for you. All of you.”

Then I aimed at the livestream cameras and flicked my wrist. The knife sailed through the air and struck the power bay, sending sparks flying.

My strength faded and exhaustion crushed down on me, draining my limbs until my knees began to buckle.

Fuck.

I stumbled forward, barely catching myself before I hit the ground.

That was when Neeve moved. She emerged from the shadows and approached slowly, as though I were a caged animal.

Fear swirled in her eyes, but she was far braver than any of these men.

She stopped in front of me. “Thank you,” she whispered.

I nodded, too exhausted even to speak.