“Shit!”
Rascal hissed savagely, before scampering past me in a blur of movement. I couldn’t help but release a laugh. It sounded slightly crazed, and more than a little on edge. Tears pricked the back of my eyelids as I pulled out the dustpan from under the kitchen sink. Bending down, I swept the shards carefully into the pan.
Hold yourself together, Brydie. It’s just a glass.
I drew back to my feet and bent over to slide the fragments into the garbage can. At that moment, a searing heat blasted from my chest, a bright amber glow lighting the space in front of me.
I froze. This time it was unmistakable—it was coming from the pendant.
Before I could understand what was going on, an arm snaked around my chest, wrenching me backward. The dustpan and glass fell back to the floor in a tinkling smash as a gloved hand slammed over my mouth.
12
Brydie
I tasted blood as my lips were ground against my teeth.
Adrenalin kicked in, and I desperately tried to pry the hand off my mouth. Gagging, I tugged and pulled, but it didn’t loosen. I kicked back, slamming my heels into the shins of my attacker. But my struggles were ineffectual.
My nostrils flared as I strove to draw breath. An acrid smell hit my senses, a rank smoke that was cloying and vile, akin to burnt flesh. My senses reeled; my head spun. I was suffocating under the pressure.
Suddenly desperate, I opened my mouth, ignoring the sharp tug of pain. Straining against the pressure, I bit down hard on the hand over my mouth. The bitter taste of leather crossed my tongue, and I felt my teeth grind on bone.
A bitten curse came from behind, and then I was moving, being pulled roughly backward, my heels dragging on the hallway carpet.
Oh God! My heartbeat quickened, slamming violently into my chest. Where was he taking me?
Before the panic fully took over, a powerful force abruptly slammed into my side. I was thrown to the floor and had just enough time to raise my hands before my head impacted with the ground. A sharp pain shot up my left wrist as I braced myself. I scrambled sideways, by instinct moving away from the dark shadows behind me. Pressed tightly against the hallway wall, I glanced wildly over my shoulder, stifling a scream as I saw two men locked in a fierce embrace.
Gage had James slammed against the wall, hands locked tightly around his neck. And James’s face was turning purple, his eyes bulging, fingers scrabbling madly for purchase at Gage’s hands.
“Brydie,” Gage bit out, his eyes never leaving James’s face. “Get a knife!”
I couldn’t respond. All I could think was that one of them had attacked me from behind. And the intention behind that attack had been lethal. I’d felt the brutal strength of those arms, the bruising cruelty of those fingers over my mouth and chest. I had no doubt that whoever had grabbed me would have taken me from my home, potentially even fatally harmed me. I began to tremble.
As though sensing I was losing it, Gage’s head whipped around, lancing me with his searing gaze. His eyes burned with a violent hunger, and I whimpered at the intensity there, sensing his control was on a thin thread.
My gaze shifted to the chokehold that Gage held James in. Gage’s fingers were long and tapered, but they were also bare. As if in slow motion, my gaze shifted to James’s hands as he tried to find purchase on the chokehold at his neck. One finger looked unusual, crooked, and at an awkward angle. But that wasn’t what made my heart freeze. It was the fact that his hands were encased in leather gloves.
Oh god! James was my attacker!
“Brydie!” Gage’s voice was a whiplash. “Get the fucking knife now!”
It was enough to snap me out of my reverie.
Shit!
I pushed myself to my feet, wincing at a pain in my left knee, and fumbled my way into the kitchen. Spying the knife I’d wielded against Gage earlier, I grasped its handle, my fingers slipping as I sought to control my erratic panting. Pushing everything to the back of my mind, I blanked out the details. Later. There would be time to consider what had just happened—later.
James was making a horrible noise when I reentered the hallway, and I couldn’t help looking at his face again. It was as if he had sensed my approach, for his eyes immediately locked onto mine with a vicious hunger. He began to struggle violently. In horror, it took me a split second to realize what he was doing. With no thought to his own preservation, he was leaning into Gage’s hands, applying even more pressure on his windpipe. Spittle flew as he gasped soundlessly, his arms no longer scrabbling at his neck but reaching out to me.
“Fuck!” Gage snarled.
James was using the wall as leverage with no thought for the punishment to his throat. At that point, I knew he wasn’t breathing, but his eyes remained obsessively on my own. His face was a determined mask, his expression full of hate.
I gasped, stumbling backward. “James! Stop—please!”
My words only seemed to spurn him further. Without warning, his forehead whipped down and smashed into Gage’s chin. The impact was audible as Gage reeled backward into the other side of the hallway wall, losing his grip on James’s neck. James sprung forward, lunging at me aggressively.
There was no time to turn and run as he slammed into me. The world tilted sickeningly, and I flew backward. The back of my head hit the floor, and I groaned in a whisper of sound. Pain blossomed down the length of my body as James fell on top of me, trapping both of my arms at my sides. I was stunned, disbelieving at what was happening.
Where was the knife? I clenched my fists desperately, but it wasn’t there.
“I have you now, bitch!”
The voice came from James’s mouth, but it wasn’t James’s voice. It sounded deeper, older, an unusual inflection in the tone. I stared at his face and cringed at what I saw. James’s features were unrecognizable, twisted in a vicious snarl. His eyes were demonic, the blood vessels red starbursts across the whites. Intense hatred blazed from within.
“James—” I gasped, struggling for breath. “What are you doing?”
He laughed, a twisted, sinister sound. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to kill you.”
My blood chilled at the calm, matter-of-fact tone to his voice. “James! No!”
“You’ve been lucky, hidden from me for this long,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “I’m going to enjoy this. The time has finally—"
There was a powerful thrust above my chest, and then James’s eyes opened wide to their furthest reach. He made an odd gurgling sound before collapsing on top of me. Stunned, I lay there under his weight.
In the sudden fall of silence, Gage appeared above me. His face was tight. He didn’t say a word as he dragged James off my body.
As James’s length hit the carpet with a heavy thud, I turned to stare at him, seeking confirmation that his attack had truly ceased. It was then I noticed the knife protruding from his back. I fixated on the handle, processing the truth of what it entailed. As I watched, the red spot around the knife expanded. All the while James remained face down, still and silent.
Trembling, not daring to believe what I was seeing, I turned to Gage and whispered, “Is he dead?”
Gage’s jaw tensed. “Not yet.”
Shocked, I just lay there, looking at him. I felt numb, unable to move.
Gage’s face was unreadable. “Are you hurt?”
“What?”
“Are you hurt?” he repeated on an impatient growl.