1
It was a zombie knife. Curved and spiny, as the blade pierced Benito’s skin.
Blood oozed, thick and red, and the sight of it shocked him, though it shouldn’t have. He’d been running from the knife his whole life.
Metaphorically.
Literally.
At this point, who the fuck cared?
Not him. Only the anger coursing through his juddering heart exposed him as a liar.
You killed the wrong king.Figuratively speaking... that was the right adverb, right? If Dante Pope wasn’t dead?
Stop thinking about Dante Pope. It ain’t him that just shanked you.
Benito forced his eyes open, and a gasp rattled through him. Blood dripped down his torso, soaking into the grimy floor of the abandoned warehouse. Dizziness set in, unnerving him more than the searing pain radiating from his left side, and panic hit him, sharp, cruel, and more painful than any blade. His cool head was his best weapon, and it was slipping away.
Everythingwas slipping away.
I just want to sleep.
Cold laughter kept him awake.
Grinning, Asa Gerrard crouched in front of him, still clutching the zombie knife. “I like this version of you. It’s better than not knowing your plays before they happen, even when you tell me all about them.”
Benito swallowed a groan and spat on the floor. “It’s not my fault you’re too slow to keep up.”
“Wasn’t tonight, though, was I? Kept up with you just fine. And here we are.”
Asa’s smirk grew.
Benito shivered. “What do you want?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Whacking you would be the easiest option. Then I’d never have to think about you again.”
“Do it then.” More blood poured from Benito’s mouth, choking him. “I don’t care.”
“You see, that’s the problem, though, ain’t it?” Asa twirled the knife in his hands. “Youdocare. About someone. Youlovethem. And that makes you too useful to kill.”
Benito’s heart jolted against his throbbing ribs. He searched for the emptiness he carried on the street. The echoing chamber his heart had become when he wasn’t around theonlysoul on earth he cared about. “Whatever, mate. I’m a selfish motherfucker. When have you ever seen me be anything else?”
“Last week.”
Asa’s tone was casual.
Toocasual.
A growl built in Benito’s chest. “You’re full of shit, Gerrard, unless you’re talking about me boning your girl every Friday night.”
“I don’t have a girl,” Asa retorted. “So whatever bitch you’ve been drilling is nothing to me. Nah. I’m talking about the pretty brunette who takes the bus to St. Marc’s High Schoolevery day from Barnfield Court flats in Bletchley. And her mum who walks the red ways to Santander five days a week. You care about them, right? Your mama and your baby sister?”
Benito closed his eyes, unable to watch as it dawned on Asa that he’d hit gold. The jackpot of Benito’s heart that he couldn’t give up.
Asa said more words, but Benito couldn’t hear them over his stampeding pulse.
Rough hands lifted him from the ground and dragged him outside. They threw him in the back of a van and drove through the night. It was dawn when Benito woke up.