Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Now he looks… disheveled somehow. Like he’s tired and doesn’t give a fuck about his appearance. His hair is a little wild, badly in need of a trim, and there’s scruff on his cheeks.
I’m so focused on memorizing all the new, little changes, so I can report them to my uncle later, I don’t see the bigger picture.
I don’t see what Jude is holding in his hand.
Nodding to Uriel, Jude steps up to Rodney from his left side. “Now be a good boy and stay still. Trust me, you don’t want me to miss…”
Uriel suddenly grabs Rodney from behind so he can’t move.
Expression unchanging, Jude lifts his arms, gripping a meat cleaver in both hands.
As the cleaver glints in the light, my heart freezes mid-beat.
Then Jude drops his arms, bringing the cleaver down on Rodney’s left wrist.
Rodney screams behind his gag.
And I almost scream with him.
But it feels like someone just punched me in the stomach and knocked all the air out of me.
“Oops…” Jude says, looking emotionlessly down at the cleaver embedded in Rodney’s wrist.
“Oops?” Nathaniel asks.
A boyish grin stretches across Jude’s face, cracking his emotionless mask. “It seems I’m out of practice.”
Struggling to keep Rodney from thrashing around too much, Uriel growls, “What the fuck? It didn’t go all the way through?”
Jude chuckles. “I’m afraid not.”
“Fuck,” Uriel groans. “Do it again. I want to get this shit over with. This fucker smells like piss and he’s so sweaty he keeps slipping out of my hands.”
Face lighting up with a sick kind of glee, Jude wiggles the cleaver back and forth, trying to free it.
That sound… the sound of the metal grinding against bone is my undoing.
My stomach revolting in protest, I have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from puking everywhere.
Unfortunately, the movement instantly draws Jude’s attention.
His gaze locks on mine, and I swear I feel the cold kiss of my impending death.
Out of all the pictures I’ve studied, his has haunted me the most.
Haunted me so bad I’ve had daily, reoccurring nightmares about him.
I don’t know why out of all the men he’s the one I find most frightening.
Maybe it’s the eyes… those intense eyes that burn with something that’s somehow both feral and calculating.
Those eyes that are burning into me right now.
Jude finally frees the cleaver with a hard yank and a spurt of blood.
But I don’t stick around to see if he brings it down again.
Stumbling away from the doorway, my stomach lurching, I make a run for it.
I’m dead.
So fucking dead.
Fearing Jude is right behind me with that bloody cleaver in his hand, I trip my way out the door.
I’m so panicked, so distraught, I can’t think straight.
All I can think is—I need to get the fuck out of here.
I can’t die, not yet.
Abel needs me.
Heart racing faster than my legs can carry me thanks to my stupid heels, I stumble down the hallway.
Nearly twisting and breaking my ankles by the time I reach the end.
Knowing I won’t be able to make it across the club to grab all my stuff out of my locker without getting caught, I make a beeline for the closest emergency exit.
Unfortunately, the moment I push the metal bar to open the door an alarm starts to blare overhead.
Someone must have fixed it recently…
Shit.
Cursing my luck and my stupid decisions, I stumble outside.
The alley behind the club is dark and unlit. The shadows from the taller neighboring buildings blocking out most of the moonlight.
I start to head towards the street then think better of it. I don’t want to come out in front of the club and risk being spotted.
Deciding to follow the alley a couple of blocks, I slap my hand against the wall. Using it as an anchor as I continue to trip and stumble in these stupid heels.
Heels that were definitely not made for running down dark alleys in the middle of the night.
When a small hole in the broken cobblestone nearly takes out my ankle, I decide the heels have to go. I refuse to die over these stupid shoes.
Leaning against the building beside the club, I reach down and slide the heel off.
As if Fate has decided I’m the one it really wants to fuck with tonight, the second I slide my shoe off the back door to the club opens.
Freezing in terror, I look to the door to see a man standing in the open doorway. His silhouette illuminated by the light glowing behind him.
I can’t see his face from here.
But it doesn’t matter.
Every little instinct I possess knows it’s him. Knows it’s Jude.
And knows the second he spots me.
The very air thickens around me with suffocating heaviness.
“There you are…” he says ominously as he starts walking.
Letting the door slam shut behind him, the alley is thrown back into total darkness.