Page 31

"I-I-I have a f-f-family."

"I don't care."

I jam the blade into his throat, pulling it back out and watching the blood gush from the wound.

Bone Saw releases him and he drops to his knees, clutching at his throat with his hands. I kneel beside him, driving the knife into his stomach over and over and over again until finally, he drops and stops moving.

"Is the other one gone?" I ask, catching my breath.

"Nah, he's behind the dumpster."

"Please don't hurt me!" Nate cries. "Just…let me go. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I wanted to call the police—just ask her. I won't tell anybody."

"What do you think?"

I shrug. "He's not lying, but he's seen me. He knows my name." I pass him the knife. "I don't want to do it, though. Make it quick."

"You're smarter than your boyfriends."

Nate tries to run, but Bone Saw catches him in two strides, snapping his neck in seconds and leaving him a lifeless heap on the ground.

I'm in a dark alley with four dead bodies. On instinct, I begin making excuses in my head.They hurt people, and they were going to kill a girl. They were going to hurt me.But the truth is I'm not sure I care about being a bad person anymore. And they pissed me off.

"How do you feel?" Bone Saw asks.

"I don't really feel anything."

"What about…here?" He reaches between my legs, cupping my pussy through my shorts and rubbing me with his palm. "Do you feel anything here?"

I close my eyes and suck in a breath. "Yes."

I jump back when I hear tires in the alley, flattening my body against the wall. A black delivery truck with its headlights off rolls to a stop in front of us, and when the back opens, three gold-masked men in all black climb out, dragging a barrel down the ramp.

I wrap my hand around Bone Saw's bicep, stepping slightly behind him.

And then I watch as they lift Jason first and lower him into the barrel. Its contents make a hissing sound and steam billows from the top before they replace the lid, pull it back onto the truck, and grab another.

It's acid. They're dissolving them.

"I should check on the girl inside," I say softly before returning to the warehouse through the receiving door.

My shoes stick to the floor and slide beneath me as I slowly cross the room to the girl who's still face down on the floor in this mess.

I turn her over but the way she moves…

It's like rolling Layla in that sheet, and I know she's dead. What I thought was a dark-colored shirt is actually her exposed torso, battered and stained black and blue from bruising and internal bleeding. Still, I bring two fingers to her neck and search for a pulse.

I'd be surprised if she were older than sixteen or seventeen. Leather cuffs and bracelets line her wrists, badly covering the thin, light self-harm scars. I wonder if she needed this as badly as I did—a place to belong, a community.

A family.

"She's dead," I say, hearing his footsteps behind me. "Are they going to put her in a barrel, too?"

He stands with his gloved hands in his pockets. "Nah, we'll leave her here. Make sure someone finds her."

"How?"

"We're everywhere, Teagan. Always have been."