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“You heard that?” He relaxes, unconcerned with my questioning, and jerks his head towards the kitchen, signaling for me to follow. That kind of makes me want to cry.

Clearing my throat, I force out, “Sure did.”

I fall in step behind him, the urge to cry deepening as I make my way farther into the belly of the beast. It feels like a bungee cord is strapped around my waist, pulling me back towards the exit, and the longer I walk, the stronger it becomes.

He shoots a look over his shoulder. “Baby girl, I don’t know what you did to piss that man off, but he has a vendetta against you. You’re plastered all over the dark web with a fat price on your head. Max hired Rick to bring you in, and since the guy is a complete idiota, he asked me to help. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew where you lived, we wouldn’t have gotten a head start and might’ve had to fight some competition to get to you.”

Any moisture in my mouth dries. There’s a price on my head? What the fuck for?

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because… well, why the fuck else would I be here?

The new information distracts me enough to take in my surroundings through blurred eyeglasses. I cling onto all the insignificant details, like the sagging cabinetry, purring yellow refrigerator, and the endless ocean of brown wood and ugly wallpaper. Now, he’s leading me toward steep wooden steps that creak beneath our weight.

"Does Rick work for the Society?"

Rio glances over his shoulder at me, his brow cocked, seemingly surprised that I know of them.

"No, he's Rocco's friend, who is Francesca's brother. She works for the Society, and Rocco and his friends reap the benefits."

"Do you work for them?"

"I do, though I answer to Francesca right now."

I lick my dry lips, then ask, “So who put the price on my head?”

“It doesn’t matter who. Only why. Now hurry up, I have to take a leak, and if you don’t move faster, I’ll unzip and paint a picture on that pretty face of yours.”

The disgusting threat does the trick and snaps me out of my daze. Shooting him a nasty look, I quicken my pace, despite the way my muscles groan in response.

Ending the conversation is best anyway. I need to concentrate on every detail in this house. Starting with how quiet it is.

As he leads me down a long hallway, several doors on either side, I realize it’s not the type of silence deriving from vacancy, but the kind when someone is holding their breath, praying for the footsteps to keep on walking by.

Swallowing nervously, my eyes bounce around, trying to pinpoint any glaring details, but the heart-pounding dread is making everything fuzzy.

How the fuck am I supposed to stay calm and play it smart so I can get out of here when a million alarms are going off in my head, warning me that there is no way out?

There’s always a way out, little mouse. You just have to find it.

Chapter 6

The Hunter

Rage.

It’s not appreciated enough. Not studied enough.

The capabilities of the human body are no longer limited to the laws of physics. The absolute destruction that resides in my fingertips could burn down entire cities—reduce them to ashes and embers. A simple stroke of a match, or a flick of my wrist, and as far as my eyes can see would be consumed in the same black fire that rages inside me.

For now, I turn the destruction on myself. My reflection seethes, overcome with a violence only seen through telescopes. Our universe was forged in brutality, and now the cosmos resides in not one, but two black eyes glaring back at me.

Your fucking fault.

My fist flies into the mirror, nearly shattering it entirely with one hit. Tiny shards explode from the impact, raining down in the sink and across the floor. It imitates exactly what my soul feels like. Fucking shattered.

I’ve only just gotten home from the hospital, and already I’m adding to the list of injuries. But I’m too lost to care.

Snarling, I pull back and drive my fist into the mirror again. Over and over until only a few crooked pieces remain.