Dark Need by Clarissa Wild

Chapter 35

Soren

The second Ispot her in the car, I run. I run like hell.

Not because she’s driving off, but because I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Those weren’t tears of guilt. They were tears of pain and grief and fear all wrapped into one, and they lit a fire inside my soul that will burn for an eternity.

Because I will not stop until I have her in my arms.

Even though she escaped my grasp and willingly set ablaze our moment of peace just so she could have her freedom, I can still see the regret in her eyes.

She didn’t want to stay in that car.

If she did … maybe I would’ve let her go.

But that panicked look. That one look she gave me … the one who begged me to save her … who pulled the trigger and released the beast inside.

So I run like I’m chasing after the devil himself, my muscles and lungs bursting with pain as I push them to the limit of what a human is physically capable of. And I go beyond the acceptable, beyond the limit, to reach the car, to reach her.

When I’m right behind it, I jump onto the back and crawl on top, clenching the metal not to be swung off. I fish my knife from my pocket and ram it straight into the roof. Shrieks follow from the inside. Man shrieks. The kind of cowards and bastards who don’t deserve to live.

And they won’t after I’m done with them.

I roar out loud as I turn around on top of the roof, pull out the knife, and jam it straight into the window until it cracks and falls apart. And with a big swing, I push myself inside, landing straight into the man’s jaw with a foot.

“Fuck! Get off me!” he yells.

The car begins to swerve, and everybody screams, but I remain focused on my target, beating the ever-living shit out of him as he’s cornered up against April.

Myfucking girl.

The one he dared to lay a finger on.

Because I saw it when I ran toward her. I saw him stick his hands down her pants and her shirt while she cried and begged.

And I cannot ignore that.

So I rip him away from her and shove my knife into his abdomen. He grunts in pain.

Good. I hope he fucking enjoys it as I throw him out the window.

The other two guys yell and cry as I glance at April to make sure she’s okay, but she’s shivering and in complete shock at what just happened.

I jump toward the driver first, shoving down his foot on the brake until the car comes to a complete stop. Then I punch him in the face a couple of times.

His buddy tries to attack me from the side with a switchblade, but I swiftly knock it from his hands, snapping his arm in two.

“Fuck!” he cries in pain.

The other one holds up his hands, begging me for mercy. “Please. I did nothing.”

“YOU CAGED HER,” I growl, seething with uncontrollable rage.

And I slam the unlock button. The doors immediately click open as the two guys scramble to get away. But I won’t let them get far.

No. They chose pain today. They chose it the second they cornered her and tried to use her.

And I? I choose violence.

So I grab the one closest to me, the one with the hoodie, and kick him in the stomach so hard he vomits on the ground.

“Please …” he begs.

I ignore his please and pounce down on his head with my foot until it cracks and splatters, blood oozing from his skull.

The driver tries to flee in complete panic, crying and screaming like a baby.

Instead of chasing after him, I throw my knife at his back.

It lands straight between his shoulders, and he falls down to the asphalt, howling in pain.

I approach him and dig the knife a little deeper before I pluck it out again.

“Please … I didn’t do anything …” he says.

“Exactly,” I growl.

He let his buddies touch her while he. Did. Nothing.

So I grab his head and twist until it cracks.

Then nothing but silence.

The car door opens, and April steps out, shaking. Our eyes connect briefly. Hers filled with terror, and I don’t know if it’s meant for them … or me.

But I’m not done yet.

I walk up to the guy I threw out the window who was touching her in the back seat while she tried to fight him off.

He’s still alive, groaning from all his broken bones. I flip him around, and he shrieks with fear, then pisses his pants.

“Please, I beg you—”

“YOU. TOUCHED. HER.”

I spit in his face while he cries. His eyes skitter back and forth between his dead buddies bleeding out in the sun and me, which only makes him cry harder.

“We were drunk. We didn’t mean it,” he lisps.

I hold out my knife in front of his chin, poking the flesh until I draw blood.

“I’m sorry man, please,” he says, his voice fluctuating in tone like a mouse in a trap. “Please don’t do this. My mother is waiting for me back home.”

“Your mother is better off with you dead,” I growl as he swallows against the knife. “Now you pay the price for hurting what belongs to ME.”

I slice open his throat slowly, allowing the blood to gurgle in his mouth.

I don’t fucking care how vicious it is as I stare at him while he dies slowly, choking on his own blood. I want the last thing he sees while on this fucking earth to be my devilish smirk so it’ll haunt him in the afterlife.

When he’s gone, I wipe my knife on his shirt and get up to face the only person who matters right now.

Her.

But the fear still lurking in her eyes tells me this is far from over.

* * *

April

When he stands, he towers over the body of the man he just killed like a beast unshackled. His muscles are violently taut, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he breathes in and out. And I can’t help take a quick peek at the man lying underneath him. The man who tried to use me for his own gain, to make me grateful for his help.

His eyes are empty, as though his soul has left his body, and there’s nothing left but blood pooling at his neck.

The last sounds he made instantly make me reach for my throat, and I swallow hard.

Soren just went full berserk on them.

The second he saw me, I had no choice but to call for aid.

But all these bodies lying on the cold, hard concrete make me freeze up.

They’re dead because of me.

Was all of this bloodletting really necessary?

I shiver in place as he turns to face me, his body covered in the blood of men.

He made my enemies his and, in doing so, sealed their fate.

He killed them to save me.

To avenge my honor.

To claim me for himself.

And I gulp when he starts walking straight toward me, my body weak and my knees bucking underneath my own weight. I quickly jump back into the car, scared to death of what might happen.

Because I ran from a man like him … and he just chased a car, broke into it, and killed three men like it was nothing.

Like it was child’s play to him.

Snapped them in half and tore them apart like an animal.

I can’t fucking breathe.

Within seconds he’s here, his powerful footsteps the first thing I hear before his face comes into view. And I sink back into the seat furthest away from him, wondering if I too, should plead for my life.

The look on his face predicts thunder as he peers inside, and our eyes lock.

I hold my breath as he sits down next to me and slams the door shut.

The air is thick with unspoken words as silence envelops us, and it feels like I’m choking on my own breath.

“Stay back,” I say.

“I came to rescue you, and this is how you respond?” he scoffs.

“I didn’t ask—”

“You. Did.”

The starkness in his voice catches me off guard, and both our eyes momentarily flick to the blade in his hands.

And he’s right.

I called out his name.

Begged him with a look through the window.

And we both know he saw.

But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. “You didn’t have to kill them.”

“I did,” he responds in a low tone. “They hurt you.”

My lips part, but I don’t know how to respond to that. How to feel about the way he cares for me so much that he’d kill someone just to defend my honor.

But when his hand reaches for my face, I freeze. The back of his hand, covered in blood, swipes over my cheeks so gently that it feels unreal, and it stirs something deep inside me that’s hard to ignore. But then I remember why all of this happened, and I swat his hand away. “Don’t.”

“I want to know if you’re okay,” he says, cocking his head.

“I’m not,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes. “I didn’t choose any of this. They’re all dead now … because of me.”

His face tightens, and he sighs. “Then you shouldn’t have run.”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” I say, leaning away.

His lips part as he clenches the knife in his hand. “Why?”

My face contorts. “You know why.”

The look on his face changes in a twisted way unlike anything I’ve seen before, and it brings chills to my bones.

“You know I don’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit!” I spit.

I mean, I can’t win in a fight one on one. The only power I have is my voice, and I’d rather die knowing I used it well.

“You asked me about my life at the cult for a reason. You’re taking me there, aren’t you?”

His face darkens, and he’s looking right through me, so I know the truth.

I look away in pain, blinking away the tears. “I knew it. I should’ve never trusted you.”

“You ran from me,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What was I supposed to do? Stay there in that bed and pretend everything was okay while you were secretly plotting to bring me back to the one place I never wanted to return to?” I bark, even as the tears start to roll. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie,” he says, clenching his teeth in a way that makes me think he’ll lash out, but I refuse to back down.

“You didn’t tell me either, even though I asked so many times,” I say. “Because you knew it was the wrong choice. You knew what you were doing would hurt me.”

“Enough!” he suddenly yells, and it makes me flinch.

He looks at me with rage and disgust swirling behind his eyes. But it isn’t disgust for me.

“You let them use you like some kind of tool,” I say.

He grabs my arm and yells again, “Stop!”

“Not until you let me go,” I say.

“You know I cannot,” he spits back.

“Well, then you can rot away in your own regret for all I care.” I jerk my arm free from his grip.

“April. Enough,” he barks, grabbing my arm. “Come.”

When he tries to pull me out of the car, I plant my feet firmly against the floor. “No. Not until you let me go.”

“April!” he barks over his shoulder. “I am doing what’s best for both of us!”

“No,” I quip. “You’re doing what’s best for you and your buddies at the House. But I’m done being a victim. If I can’t live my life in freedom, I don’t want to live at all.”

And I snatch the knife from his hand when he isn’t looking, dragging it to my own damn neck.

I can’t ever win this fight. I can’t. He’s too strong. Too fast. Too … inhuman.

So there’s only one option left … putting my own life on the line.

He turns his head and watches me struggle with the knife. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” I hiss.

“Stop it,” he says, trying to reach for it, but I only jam it farther into my own skin.

Enough to make it bleed.

And that stops him in his tracks.

“No. You listen to me. I am not going back to that cult. I’d rather die than go through that again.”

“April …” He closes his eyes and sighs.

“I don’t give a damn that you think you have no choice. These men don’t own you. Whoever put that metal on you doesn’t own you. You think you’re indebted to them, but it doesn’t matter. If you run now, they will never, ever find you.”

He listens intently, frozen to the seat, and when his eyes open, they’re fixated on that one droplet of blood rolling down my neck.

“You promised me you would keep me safe. That I could trust you,” I say, trying not to panic at the thought of slicing my own throat. “But you lied to me just so you could make me complacent.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he suddenly says.

Our eyes connect again in a storm of rage and fire, with nothing to quench the flames.

“But you still choose to make me bleed,” I say.

“I am not the one holding that knife,” he replies.

“I’m not talking about the knife!” I yell, overcome by emotions. “I’m talking about the blood they’ll spill when they get their hands on me. They’ll use me. Hurt me. Don’t you care?”

He looks away.

Fucking coward.

“I thought you cared about me. I thought we had something. I thought … you actually had feelings for me.” Tears well up in my eyes as I finally let out the truth. “But it turns out that was all a lie too, just to stop me from putting up a fight and making it easy on yourself.”

His face contorts in shame and agony and all kinds of pain.

“Well, goodbye.”

As I puncture my skin, he intervenes. With one fell swoop, he’s snatched the knife straight out of my hands and throws it far away into the woods, leaving me with a bloodied neck and a teared-up cheek.

And I want nothing more than to cry and scream and punch.

But none of that will ever hurt him.

Not in the way that he hurt me.

And in this cruelty, I lose a piece of myself, as I say, “I hate you.”