I flipped easily out of Walter’s crumbling hold. His knee had shattered and I’d hardly put any pressure into the assault. I grabbed the handle of a frying pan I clocked on entry and proceeded to beat the three idiots over the head with it. Groans accompanied the vibrating hits as steel made contact with their thick skulls. It didn’t quantify as a fight per se, their disorientation barely a challenge.
The pan clanged to the floor as I swapped it out for a knife. Grabbing Ace by the shirt, I dragged him to his room. As soon as he was shoved inside, I slammed the door shut and stabbed the knife into the electronic keypad. Energy buzzed around the embedded blade before the lock clicked into place. No one else would be able to enter until it was manually opened, which wouldn’t happen tonight.
Satisfied, I turned on my heel and aimed for the control room in search of the one person that would be able to calm the vicious mania that I was engulfed.
Chapter 18Psycho
Micah launched through the entryway with stealthy precision, stiletto elevated and ready for attack. My arm barred upward, blocking the heel from gashing into my flesh, the shoe scattering to the ground.
I stared directly into her amber eyes, blazing with the intense power of a thousand stars, the red-stained streaks over her face highlighting the cold-blooded frenzy that had overtaken her. It called to me, lured me in, seducing me into their depths. I was on the precipice of pure and utter destruction. One word from her and I’d burn this place to the ground. One heated look and I’d destroy the fucking world.
To create a semblance of distance in the confined space, I reversed until my legs hit the monitor. Exposing my back, I turned, dancing my fingers over the keyboard to complete my final task. I corrupted all footage from the last twenty-four hours and subsequently shut down all security cameras across the whole asylum.
No one would know what transpired tonight. No one would have the visual of my golden girl transforming into the breathtaking predator that now stood at my back. Her deadly metamorphosis was for my eyes only, stored in my memory bank with fond appreciation.
Micah stepped up to my side, processing the entire wall of tv screens, which transitioned from a buzzing grey to clear, blank nothingness.
Her hand slipped into mine without ceremony, our fingers interlocked. Squeezing lightly, I could feel the tiny shards of glass penetrating her palm. When her face eventually tilted my way, her emotionless expression had dropped. Her features were open, eyes filled with so much acceptance and trust that I almost buckled under the severe weight of her stare.
Without a word I cleared the room of evidence, stole Fern’s swipe and left his corpse in the corner, the identity of his killer to forever remain a mystery. Holding her shoes in one hand and her palm in the other, I led Micah through the corridors. It was easy to manoeuvre undetected through the madness. The alarm had ceased and security reinforcements had barricaded the asylum perimeter, containing the inmates and guiding guests to safety.
I stole a first aid kit along the way to my room and barred the door. No one would disturb us. The two that would’ve dared were both dead.
I switched on the UV lamp in the corner, trudged into the adjoining bathroom and thoroughly washed Fern’s blood from my murderous hands, Micah following noiselessly.
From the first moment I’d always considered her a goddess, and tonight she personified the Goddess of Death; blood hardened over her entire front, her brunette hair a tangled mess down to her waist and a soft, purple glow silhouetted her frame—a vision of unadulterated sin and wickedness.
She remained standing in the bathroom doorway. “Are you sad she’s gone?” Her first words were toneless, impassive.
At first I didn’t know who she referred to, until my mind replayed the scene of Katsy’s death.
“You think I care for that bitch?” I approached her in reverence. “I only wish I’d done it sooner.”
“I’m sorry I took that from you.”
“Don’t be. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” I lifted and kissed her injured palm, her skin cold to the touch. “To know it was your hand that dealt the blow, that avenged my dignity. Baby, don’t ever be sorry.”
As I stepped closer, she pulled out a necklace hidden beneath her dress collar. A gleaming silver chain with a distinguishable oval pendant attached, the letters A.M. engraved in the centre.
My legs faltered and a rushing took precedence in my ears. It was an out-of-body experience as Micah clipped the necklace around my neck and stretched higher to press a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Ava passed on those two keepsakes, and a message.” Micah cleared her throat as if she was about to make a huge pronouncement, her tone scarily similar to my sister. “Hurry the fuck up, Psycho, before these women do all the work for you.” Amusement sparked over her features before she disclosed everything without my having to ask: where Ava was hidden, how she was found and the thorough plan for our joint escape.
My hand raised of its own accord to cup Micah’s cheek as my forehead pitched forward to press against hers. Completely dazed, I breathed her in.
I was simultaneously awestruck and terrified. How could I ever be worthy? Micah was so valuable, I couldn’t even comprehend it.
But I wanted it. Oh, how I desperately wanted her.
“I’m right in front of you. Take me, August.”
And when I looked into her eyes and saw nothing but commanding resolve, I realised that’s exactly what I’d do.
I’ll take it all.
I lifted her to sit on the bathroom counter and pressed between her parted legs. Grabbing a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit, I gently pried the broken fragments of glass from her torn palm. It was intricate work, a constant trickle of blood obscuring the view. She never flinched or made a sound, even when I had to go digging under her flesh for wayward shards.
With her breathing even and muscles relaxed, she leant her head back against the mirror, eyes lapsing shut. I froze, catching sight of the underside of her chin. A small fluorescent tattoo in the outline of a skull glowed like a beacon, reflecting off the purple light filtering from the adjoining room.
“Ultraviolet?” I whispered, my mouth voicing the word before my brain could even compute.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she raised a finger to trace the incriminating symbol, the motion casual and unthreatening, as if I didn’t just find out she was a member of one of the most prestigious and notorious assassination groups in the world.
I’d only ever encountered one, and it had been the closest I ever came to dying. I didn’t know he was Ultraviolet until his lifeless carcass was dragged to the infirmary for investigation. Tattoo ink invisible to the naked eye, made visible beneath the radiance of blacklight.
“Does that scare you?”
I shook my head. “Nah, baby. If anything, this makes complete sense.” Everything clicked into place. Her ability to infiltrate Oakview and her resilience to any chaos that was thrown her way. Also, her capability to manipulate those around her to get what she wanted. A true professional, and a specialist in her trade.
“Micah King,” I said with pent-up awe. “Who are you?”
She leant forward, raising her injured hand to my jaw. “A sister, a daughter, a criminal…and yours.” Then she closed the minute distance between us and kissed me with her full, wet lips.
My pulse stuttered from her declaration. I didn’t deserve her. I would never measure up.
It didn’t matter. I was a selfish motherfucker, and I was more than willing to take whatever she was ready to offer. Only she mattered now, my tumultuous mind zoning in on one primal possessive belief. Mine.
