Page 45
Story: The Outlaw's Savage Revenge
Without slowing, Cade pulls a gun.
What the hell is he doing? There’s no way he can shoot straight while moving around like that.
A moment later, I have my answer. He fires once, and the front tire of the lead sedan explodes. The car veers wildly, then flips in a shower of sparks and screeching metal.
My heart is pounding so hard that I can barely breathe. This scene feels like it was ripped straight from a movie.
Is this really happening? In broad daylight?
The second sedan slows, hesitating for a crucial moment. Cade rips something from his pants and lobs it at the car with deadly precision.
An explosive.
I duck behind a concrete pillar and cover my ears, my survival instincts finally kicking in. The blast, when it comes, is deafening. Even from my elevated position, the shockwave slams into me, making my teeth rattle.
When I dare to look again, the second car is a twisted wreck, smoke pouring from its shattered frame.
In the stunned silence that follows, Cade calmly takes off his helmet and swings off the bike, every step measured and purposeful as he approaches the overturned first sedan. He raises his gun and fires once, point-blank, into the stunned driver.
The crack of the shot makes my whole body jerk, but Cade doesn’t even flinch. He shrugs off his jacket and moves to the passenger side. Bracing a boot beside the door, he yanks it open with a strength that makes my mouth go dry.
Cade drags a still-conscious man out of the car and away from the wreckage, then tosses him to the ground like a rag doll. A shocked gasp works its way up my throat when I see who it is.
Hector. His so-called business partner.
Hector tries to crawl away, but Cade pulls him to his knees, cradling his head against his muscular thigh. His fingers rake almost soothingly into Hector's hair, a gesture so wrong in this moment it makes my stomach turn.
Slowly, Cade reaches under his shirt and pulls out his rosary.
The sight of it sends a chill through my entire body, even as a sick heat rises in my chest. I can’t crouch anymore. I rise, drawn to the horror I know is about to unfold, even as the inescapable truth dawns on me.
This wasn’t a chase.
It was a trap.
15
Luna
I didn’t think it was possible to feel revulsion and excitement in equal amounts at the same time. But that’s exactly where I’m at as I watch, transfixed, my fingers clutching at my own pendant as Cade wraps his rosary around Hector’s neck.
The metallic beads catch the sunlight like drops of mercury as they snake into position.
Cade leans in close to Hector’s ear, speaking words that don’t carry up to my perch, but I can read the look on his face clear enough. Fury mixed with something that makes my blood run cold: satisfaction.
I can’t tear my eyes away, and my heart seems to have forgotten how to beat normally. It slows one moment and races the next.
I know in my bones that this kill is different. This isn’t survival or necessity. This is personal. Intimate. A grudge kill.
Revenge served ice-cold.
AsCade tightens the rosary, my stomach flips over itself. Each flick of his wrist is a deliberate, practiced movement, flexing his biceps and forearm muscles in a way that makes my traitorous mouth go dry.
Cade Quinn has done this before. Many, many times. He’s not Catholic. That rosary was crafted for one purpose, and it’s not prayer.
Note to self: Never ever ask to borrow his jewelry.
Hector’s gasps turn to desperate choking, the sounds carrying clearly in the dead air. A sick feeling blooms in my gut, spreading like poison. But—God help me—it’s not just horror churning inside me.
What the hell is he doing? There’s no way he can shoot straight while moving around like that.
A moment later, I have my answer. He fires once, and the front tire of the lead sedan explodes. The car veers wildly, then flips in a shower of sparks and screeching metal.
My heart is pounding so hard that I can barely breathe. This scene feels like it was ripped straight from a movie.
Is this really happening? In broad daylight?
The second sedan slows, hesitating for a crucial moment. Cade rips something from his pants and lobs it at the car with deadly precision.
An explosive.
I duck behind a concrete pillar and cover my ears, my survival instincts finally kicking in. The blast, when it comes, is deafening. Even from my elevated position, the shockwave slams into me, making my teeth rattle.
When I dare to look again, the second car is a twisted wreck, smoke pouring from its shattered frame.
In the stunned silence that follows, Cade calmly takes off his helmet and swings off the bike, every step measured and purposeful as he approaches the overturned first sedan. He raises his gun and fires once, point-blank, into the stunned driver.
The crack of the shot makes my whole body jerk, but Cade doesn’t even flinch. He shrugs off his jacket and moves to the passenger side. Bracing a boot beside the door, he yanks it open with a strength that makes my mouth go dry.
Cade drags a still-conscious man out of the car and away from the wreckage, then tosses him to the ground like a rag doll. A shocked gasp works its way up my throat when I see who it is.
Hector. His so-called business partner.
Hector tries to crawl away, but Cade pulls him to his knees, cradling his head against his muscular thigh. His fingers rake almost soothingly into Hector's hair, a gesture so wrong in this moment it makes my stomach turn.
Slowly, Cade reaches under his shirt and pulls out his rosary.
The sight of it sends a chill through my entire body, even as a sick heat rises in my chest. I can’t crouch anymore. I rise, drawn to the horror I know is about to unfold, even as the inescapable truth dawns on me.
This wasn’t a chase.
It was a trap.
15
Luna
I didn’t think it was possible to feel revulsion and excitement in equal amounts at the same time. But that’s exactly where I’m at as I watch, transfixed, my fingers clutching at my own pendant as Cade wraps his rosary around Hector’s neck.
The metallic beads catch the sunlight like drops of mercury as they snake into position.
Cade leans in close to Hector’s ear, speaking words that don’t carry up to my perch, but I can read the look on his face clear enough. Fury mixed with something that makes my blood run cold: satisfaction.
I can’t tear my eyes away, and my heart seems to have forgotten how to beat normally. It slows one moment and races the next.
I know in my bones that this kill is different. This isn’t survival or necessity. This is personal. Intimate. A grudge kill.
Revenge served ice-cold.
AsCade tightens the rosary, my stomach flips over itself. Each flick of his wrist is a deliberate, practiced movement, flexing his biceps and forearm muscles in a way that makes my traitorous mouth go dry.
Cade Quinn has done this before. Many, many times. He’s not Catholic. That rosary was crafted for one purpose, and it’s not prayer.
Note to self: Never ever ask to borrow his jewelry.
Hector’s gasps turn to desperate choking, the sounds carrying clearly in the dead air. A sick feeling blooms in my gut, spreading like poison. But—God help me—it’s not just horror churning inside me.
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