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MacAlister rolled his eyes. “What good would that do me?” He was speaking in riddles, but each prowling step he took betrayed his intentions. I forced myself to back away as he advanced on me. “I’ve lived long enough in the shadows. I just want to be free. We all do, even your friend Roark.”
“Roark is free.” My hands fisted at my sides as I swept the room, looking for a way out, for a distraction. I’d never get through the window. I had to get past him and out the door, find the wraiths, find anyone.
“No one is free in these splintered courts.” The bitterness in his voice chilled my blood. “We are all imprisoned by broken magic. Even your precious Nether Prince. I’m really doing him a favor.”
“Doing him a favor?” My laugh dripped venom. I raised my chin, meeting his poisoned glare with my own. I edged along the wall, toward the large window instead of the door, knowing there was no way I would get past him. Very carefully, I kicked off my heels. I’d never make it in those. “I doubt he’ll see it that way when I tell him how you tormented me. Who do you think you are?”
“I am the one who breaks him,” he hissed. “I am the one who will carve his heart out from your chest.”
A lost future flashed before my eyes at his words. My thumb fumbled over my ring as I realized he was going to kill me.
I was a survivor.
He pounced, but I was faster. I threw myself behind a velvet chair, my knees hitting the wood floor with a crack, the fabric of my skirt splitting several inches. Pain shot through my legs, but I ignored it as adrenaline pumped through my body. I wouldn’t die at the hands of a maggot like MacAlister. I reached down and ripped my skirt to my upper thigh. Lurching to my feet, I aimed for the door. I’d made it halfway when he caught me by the hair, wrenching me backward and into a shelf. Books tumbled around me, the shelf teetering from the impact. I threw myself as far away as I could as it crashed down.
“You’re making a mess,” MacAlister complained, prowling toward me. “Just do what humans are good at: die.”
“Go to hell!” I hissed.
“You first.” He pitched forward, diving to catch my foot.
I kicked at him, but his sharp nails dug into my ankle. I reached for another book, but my fingers came up empty. MacAlister laughed, using my leg to yank me closer. “Do you put up this much of a fight when Lach screws you? Or am I just lucky?” With his free hand, he reached inside his jacket and drew a pistol. “I can’t decide if I want to choke you to death with my own hands or just shoot you and get it over with.”
It didn’t matter that I wasn’t fae; those bullets at close range were just as deadly for a human.
“I bet those redcaps loved you,” he sneered. “He knew you would be a problem, but I kept telling him that penumbras solve problems. And honestly, he won’t be able to disagree after today.”
I ignored his babbling as I grappled, straining toward a volume of Shakespeare’s collected plays. My fingers brushed its edge. “Yes, you deserve a fucking raise.” I finally got a corner of the book and launched it at him, clipping his shoulder.
MacAlister snarled, lifting the gun. “Decision made.” He released my ankle. “I’ll give you a running start. Might I suggest how poetic it would be to die in his bed? Devastating.” He cocked the hammer as something clicked for me. “On the count of five.” He held up a finger with his free hand. “One.”
I was already on my feet. I didn’t let myself think. I just acted.
“Two.”
I bounded two steps, reaching the edge of his bed.
“Three,” he crooned, on his feet now. “And truly, a romantic choice.”
I dove, my arms stretching until they burned toward the headboard.
“Four.”
My fingers slid under the pillow, brushing the cold barrel of a 9-millimeter.
“Five.” His shadow fell over the bed. “Would you mind turning over? I think it will be more impactful if he can see your face.”
Safety off. I flicked it with my thumb as I flipped over, swinging my arms over my head. MacAlister tilted his head, blinking rapidly as I aimed.
Just pull the trigger.
And I did.
The recoil shook my arms, but I got off two more shots. MacAlister stumbled back a step, his gun clattering to the floor as crimson seeped across his white Oxford shirt. His head fell forward, stunned, for a moment before his legs gave out. He crashed to the ground, eyes lifting to stare at me. His mouth opened, a bloody gurgle foaming on his lips instead of words.
Horror spilled through me, making my hands tremble so hard I nearly dropped the pistol. I tamped down the next one, refusing to let my mind process what I’d just done. It was like the hospital. Life or death. Use the adrenaline. I slid from the bed, holding the gun in front of me as I approached him slowly. MacAlister stared at me, a smile twitching on his mouth.
I kicked his weapon across the room before crumbling to my knees, Lach’s gun stretched between us.