Page 22 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

Blade

T he scent of Kiera's arousal is wiped away by the night air, but the memory of it makes my hands shake with suppressed violence.

The distant hum of the city does nothing to drown out the roaring in my head.

Each breath carries the damp earth smell that reminds me of digging graves - appropriate, considering what I'm planning.

I move silently, my footsteps barely a whisper against the cracked asphalt, though every fiber of my being screams to storm across the street and tear apart anyone touching what's mine.

The street is a labyrinth of shadows, each corner a potential hiding spot.

Not for me - I am the shadow that other monsters fear.

Suburban life. She really went full soccer mom while I was gone. Bet she drives a fucking minivan now.

My jaw clenches so hard my teeth creak. I keep my head low, scanning the area, imagining her wrapped around him in there. My vision bleeds red at the edges. The few cars lined up against the curb look like targets in the darkness, each one a potential outlet for the rage burning through my veins.

I slip between two parked cars, my movements controlled despite the trembling in my hands. Reaching down, I attach my explosive surprise to the undercarriage, remembering how she used to tremble under my touch. The soft click sounds like a promise of violence.

This quiet neighborhood bullshit. My Kiera was wild, dangerous. This domesticated version is just wrong. Everything about this is wrong.

My fingers dig into my palms until I feel the skin break. Inching forward, my eyes lock on the front door to Kiera's business. He's in there - Wraith - probably balls deep in my wife while I'm out here planning his wake-up call.

The trigger switch feels like salvation in my hands, rough metal edges drawing blood I don't bother to wipe away. It's a simple bomb. I want to terrorize, not terminate. Yet. The real pain comes later, when I tear his world apart piece by fucking piece.

A sound drifts by - that damn ferret, probably. My hand twitches toward my gun. One less reminder of how she's replaced everything about our life together.

Breathe. Control. Make her watch it all fall apart first.

A massive black tomcat prowls out, yellow eyes glowing like a demon spawn in the darkness. He howls - a sound close to the scream building in my chest.

Fucking figures. Even the cats in this neighborhood mock me.

I slip away, each step measured despite the urge to run back and burn it all down now.

This is just foreplay - the real fuck-you comes later.

Cold satisfaction spreads through me as I imagine her face when she realizes I'm back.

When she understands that suburban life won't protect her from what's coming.

Sleep tight, wife. Dream about your perfect little life while you can. Because I'm going to dismantle it so slowly, you'll beg for a quick death before I'm done.