Page 165 of Cara

I’m finding my footing, grounding my stance to swing on him, just as he taught me. I’m pushing myself harder, remembering my father’s corpse inside that warehouse.

I did that.

One more. I just need one more.

I’m only stronger when I catch sight of Xavier stepping into the rain, a gruesome, bloody,beautifulvision. I coil my leg around Strata’s, capturing his wrist in a vice-like grip, and wrench it back until I hear the crack of his kneecap hitting the ground.

It’s blind fury as he yanks me down, wrestling me beneath him with overwhelming desperation to disarm me, completelyoblivious to Xavier crouching down behind him, eyes burning with unspeakable intensity.

Dominic’s hands are a blur, trying to restrain me when he suddenly freezes, convulsing with a strained grunt. Another sound produces blood, spilling from his lips in a rush.

Xavier extracts the five-inch blade from his back, seizes his shoulder, and thrusts him against the knife again, a wild gleam in his eyes, embodying the unhinged Phantom that the streets have come to know him as.

He stabs him over and over, each squelching sound as the weapon tears from his body becoming music to my ears.

The blood pouring from Strata’s mouth seeps through my clothes. Only then, when my eyes follow the crimson streams, do I see why Dominic Strata is fading from this world with a haunting smile.

Xavier isn’t the only one with a weapon.

He rams it through my stomach in one cruel blow.

I don’t even feel it, but all of the wind is knocked out of me. I’m unable to get a breath in, imprisoned by spiteful eyes. Eyes that are determined to win—one way or another.

And he has.

The bastardstillwon.

Dominic slumps as the life drains from him, as Xavier wrenches the weapon from his body, pulling him off of me. Halfway through the motion, hand digging into his shoulder, Xavier’s eyes lose their triumph.

He freezes.

Not because he’s seen the knife. His eyes haven’t left mine, as if he’s too scared to look down. Somehow, through my eyes alone, he knows.

My voice breaks him out of the murderous haze he had to disappear into to get us out of this alive. It’s a weak, terrified sound that prompts his eyes to finally drift down.

“X… Xavier.”

When he sees the gleam of silver protuding from my stomach, one of my own fighting knives, his eyes expand in horror. His breath hitches, catching in his throat.

“No,” Xavier gasps, his voice strangled by the clawing grip of fear. The car at the curb screeches away from the massacre once Dominic drops to the ground, lifeless. “NO!”

Frantic hands are on my face within seconds. “No, no, no. Oh, God. Sophie.” My fingers shake uncontrollably, curling around the handle as cold sweat beads on my forehead. Xavier exhales sharply, his voice trembling with panic. “You’ll bleed. Don’t.Don’t.”

“Xavier.”

I’m not ready.

The fear is there.

There’s no one left in this godforsaken place but us.

Corpses surround us, steps away from freedom.

And I think I might be next.

“Sophie.” Xavier grips my chin, his gaze locking onto mine. “Baby. Listen. Do you have a kit? Anything?”

He sounds so scared. So fucking scared.