Page 77 of Tainted Obsession 1

“Who’s screaming now?”

He isn’t capable of releasing another scream. He chokes on blood, the wet sound echoing off the concrete walls. His entire body shudders as death nears. Just before the life leave his eyes, I drive my blade between his legs, severing his flaccid cock. He will never touch her.

His eyes go wide in his final expression of horror, and then his face is utterly still, perpetually frozen in agony.

Both of my enemies are dead.

I have to get Evelyn somewhere safe. There might be other soldiers nearby, and they won’t stop to ask me questions when they see the mess I’ve made of their friends.

I pick up the rifle and sling it over my shoulder, arming myself in case more men come pouring into the building, drawn by the gunshots and screams.

I turn to her, and my stomach drops.

Her dress is torn, and she clutches at the frayed silk in an attempt to cover herself. Blood splatters her pale cheek, and my fear grows black claws, digging into my chest so that each breath is agony.

“Evelyn.” Her name is a garbled exhale.

She might be bleeding. I don’t know what they did to her before I arrived, but I heard her cry out my name in desperate terror. There had been gunfire.

I drop to my knees beside her. A pained whimper like an injured animal slips between her parted lips, and she scrambles back.

Away from me.

Her lovely eyes are wide, her pupils dilated with fear.

I suddenly become aware of the gore that coats my hands and forearms. My face feels tight and sticky. I didn’t want her to see me like this, but that choice was taken from me the moment I heard her scream.

“Farfallina…” I rasp, reaching for her again.

She shakes her head and scoots back, struggling to hold her dress closed and put distance between us at the same time.

For an awful moment, I see my mother’s face, her caramel eyes wide with horror as she takes in the bloody, broken bottle clenched in my fist. My act of violence was the last thing she saw, and it broke something inside her.

The black claws of fear rip at my lungs, scoring deep enough to cut into my heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I swear, my voice tight with pain.

Her petrified gaze sweeps over the mangled bodies. Her throat convulses, and she vomits—a visceral reaction of physical revulsion.

As she shakes and gasps for air, I gather her up in my arms. She thrashes, but I hold her firmly to my chest.

“I have to get you out of here.” The words are harsh, desperate.

She squeezes her eyes shut tight, as though she can’t bear to look at me. Her delicate fingers fist in her torn dress like the flimsy fabric will serve as a shield between us.

My heart shreds. I can’t draw full breaths.

I force in oxygen and focus on my surroundings. Protecting Evelyn is all that matters.

As I nudge open the door and assess the situation outside the building, I see an armored SUV pulling up. It skids to a stop, but before I decide whether or not to set Evelyn down so that I can grab my rifle, Adrián gets out the vehicle.

He clearly had the same idea to enlist the help of the authorities in searching for Evelyn. He would’ve arrived too fucking late.

I shoulder the door open and step out into the night, confident that no one will attack us while he’s present.

He takes one look at Evelyn cowering in my arms, clutching at her torn dress, and his face tightens into an almost feral mask.

“Who?” he demands.