Page 31 of Unholy Vows

Malachai

L ayla eyed the gaudy pumpkin and ghost decorations that lined the doorframe.

“Serial killers and rapists celebrate Halloween?” she asked with an arched brow.

A low chuckle was my only response as I placed my palm on the small of her back, guiding her inside the club. The air became stale as we descended the staircase, and the overpowering scent of sweat and bad intentions was cloying.

When Layla offered to help me, using her as bait never crossed my mind. But even I couldn’t ignore the similarities she bore to the Phantom’s other victims, and when a plan took shape, it was difficult to overlook it.

I wasn’t happy, but I had plans B and C ready just in case.

With Layla’s help, I would lure out one of Boston’s most notorious serial killers. He would be my biggest kill to date, and anticipation hummed in my veins at the thought.

I knew he’d be present tonight. All the freaks came out on All Hallows’ Eve, unable to resist easy prey. And when The Boston Phantom came for Layla, I’d make sure he never breathed her way again.

The thought made my pulse spike as the throbbing bass coursed through the club. I grimaced, moving with the crowd as neon lights bled against the shadows.

I fucking hated nightclubs.

“I’ll have eyes on you the entire time.”

Layla nodded before disappearing from my side, sliding seamlessly into the throng and losing herself to the music.

I scanned the club, cataloging every face in the packed room as I watched Layla from my periphery.

She moved in time to the beat, swaying sensually as she ran her hands over the slender curve of her neck.

Her tight red dress hugged her body, leaving little to the imagination, and my mind wandered back to when I had devoured her atop the altar.

She’d been a fucking goddess demanding to be worshipped.

But out on the dance floor, surrounded by hungry wolves, she looked exactly how I had intended.

Vulnerable.

Alluring.

Prey.

She peered up at the crowd through her lashes, half-daring, half-wary, acutely aware of the type of creatures that encircled her. It was a calculated innocence, and it was fucking irresistible.

A man in a navy dress shirt spotted her and stalked across the room. The way his eyes roved over her form and alighted with hunger had my blood boiling and my palms curling into fists.

I forced myself to remain hidden in the shadows, concealing myself as I watched and waited.

The man pressed his chest into her back, and his hands ran down her body before he gripped her hips. He leaned in close to whisper something in her ear, and Layla laughed, playing her role to perfection.

They stayed like that for hours, moving with the music as I studied them. The man exuded confidence. It showed in the way he looked at her, as if already acting out every depraved fantasy that plagued his mind. How he slowly led Layla to the edge of the dancefloor with every sway of his hips.

He had Layla exactly where he wanted her.

Or so he thought.

I pushed off the wall, needing to get closer, but paused when another man approached. He whispered something to the man holding Layla, and his face drained of color before he nodded once and left.

Then the newcomer turned to Layla.

He pointed toward a third man sitting at the bar, his too-perfect suit a stark contrast to the stained floors and paint-peeled walls. His blonde hair was slicked back, and he sat with the aura of a man who believed himself untouchable.

His gaze skimmed over me, and I knew he was the one we’d been waiting for.

The Boston Phantom.

I could feel it in the very marrow of my bones.

Most predators hunted from the shadows.

Not the Phantom, though.

He wore his arrogance like armor, and it worked. He lured unsuspecting prey with casual authority and a refined appearance. Not a speck of grime marred him; not a hair was out of place.

He didn’t look like the type who could dismember bodies while his victims were still breathing. He seemed more suited to a boardroom than a butcher’s block — and he’d use that, leaning into the misconception to lull his prey into a false sense of security.

Then he would strike.

It was not dissimilar to the way I used the cloth to deflect scrutiny from my many misdeeds. I had to admit I could appreciate the art form.

I fought the instinct to move closer as Layla moved toward him. The asshole didn’t even have the decency to stalk his own prey. He had them hand-delivered by one of his henchmen.

My palms itched, but I shook off my agitation as I watched Layla.

This was her stage; my role was to stay hidden in the shadows.

Watching. Waiting.

Layla slid into the seat beside him, her body language the perfect deception.

The subtle tilt of her hips, the arch of her back, the way she brushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing the length of her throat.

It was vulnerable, yet inviting. Every move was a dangerous dance, but she performed it to perfection.

The Phantom’s dark gaze locked onto her, drinking her in like a man starved of water in the blistering desert. She had him enraptured. There was no possibility that he was letting her slip through his fingers.

That made two of us.

My chest tightened when he stood a short time later, and she followed. His hand grazed the small of her back as he led her toward the exit. The Phantom scanned the room, and I sank deeper into the shadows.

He could feel my eyes on him. He knew I was watching.

His gaze lingered on my hiding place a second too long before he left the club.

Fuck.

I waited for the length of a heartbeat before I prowled after them. My footsteps were measured and calm as I climbed the stairs.

Drawing attention to myself would be a mistake.

As I reached the exit, two men stepped into my path. One was the man who had approached Layla before escorting her to the Phantom. The other was a mountain, all brawn and little brains.

I met their gazes with an icy stare that promised death.

“Move.”

The mountain smirked.

“Not your night, buddy. Why don’t you sit back down and mind your own business?”

A dark chuckle rumbled up my chest, but it was far from friendly.

“You don’t want to test me tonight.”

“Oh, I think we do.”

He reached for me, but I was faster. My fingers gripped the hilt of my blade, and I thrust it forward as I drove it into his outstretched hand. He howled and stumbled back as blood gushed from the wound.

The mountain lunged for me, and his fist connected with my ribs.

Pain exploded in my side, but I ignored it as I slashed my knife upward.

He deflected the blow with his forearm, and I drew blood.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him. His thick arms wrapped around me, and he hurled me through the exit, where I met the unyielding pavement.

That fucking hurt.

A shrill scream cut through the haze of pain, and I snapped my head up, watching as Layla was shoved into a van.

Fuck. FUCK!

That was not the plan.

Before I could move in Layla’s direction, the mountain was on me. He slammed his fist into my skull so hard that stars burst behind my eyes. My ears rang, and I rolled to the side, spitting out blood.

“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” the mountain taunted. “While you were watching them, we were watching you.”

His weight pressed against my chest, and I tried to shove him, but he was as immovable as stone.

“Now he can take his time with her.”

A red haze descended over me, and I was driven by an animalistic urge to hurt, maim, and kill anyone who dared to lay a single finger on Layla.

My temples throbbed and my vision blurred at the edges, but none of that mattered as I drove my head straight into his face. Blood erupted from his nose, and he reared back just enough for me to raise my knife.

I plunged it into his neck, and for a moment, he just stared, eyes wide in surprise. Then his hand darted to the wound as a torrent of blood gushed through his fingers. He swayed above me, then he tilted sideways and fell to the ground, unmoving.

The sound of screeching tires pulled my attention, and my head swiveled toward the noise.

He was taking her.

I jumped to my feet to stop him, but they had already turned the corner.

Fuck. I was too late.

A furious roar escaped me, and laughter mocked me in response. I spun, narrowing my eyes at the man who first attacked me. He held his ruined hand to his chest, but I could still see the rapid flow of blood leaking down the front of his shirt.

“I wouldn’t waste your time. You’ll never find her now. Well, not until he’s finished with her, at least.”

Rage surged through me, and I charged forward. My hands moved before my thoughts could catch up. The only thing driving me was the need for destructive violence. One hand gripped his chin, my fingers curling into the sharp outline of his jaw, while the other pressed against the back of his skull.

All it required was one savage, violent rotation, and the sound of bones snapping filled the night air. My chest heaved, and I sucked oxygen into my lungs as I blinked away the murderous haze clouding my vision.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my phone. It only took a few seconds to log into the app. A small red dot appeared on my screen, and I watched as the program tracked the implant I’d placed in Layla’s shoulder.

Jogging to my car, I had one thought on my mind.

The Phantom’s reign ended tonight.

Layla was mine.

And I’d burn the whole fucking city to get her back.