The Serum and The Bask Book 2 || b. barnes [ ON HOLD ]

Chapter 9 - Cozy Socks and Short Tempers

My bloodied foot steps followed me up the stairs and into my bedroom. Jonathan stood posted outside the door as he always did, while I moved through my room to the bathroom.

I turned on the shower and as I waited for the hot water I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror.

Taking in my reflection I took note of the red splotches covering my clothes and all my visible skin. My once white blouse was stained, and my black slacks seemed to be an even darker hue. My feet were painted in the red of the men I killed. I wore the same paint on my face, it mixing in with the smeared mascara.

I was a mess.

But as I looked down at my hands covered in the blood of the people who murdered so many close to me and my operations, I felt a sense of power.

Before I spilled their blood, I was angry. Shaking with sobs as I sat in my office before Annali gave me that phone call.

Now I was enraged to the point of calm.

There was no shake in my hands as I undid the buttons of my blouse and removed the rest of my bloodied attire.

My thoughts felt foggy. I felt as if I was moving in slow motion, as if someone else possessed my body. I stepped into the shower letting the warm water embrace me as I looked up at the shower head. My eyes closed as I let the water run.

The once clear water dripped off of me, turning into a rusted color from all the blood. As if a switch had been flipped I looked down at my skin once again, this time in disgust. I began to scrub my skin raw with the loofa. Then frantically washed my hair taking multiple tries to get the blood out. I bent down picking up my feet one at a time to scrub the rust away.

I found myself looking up into the water, letting it run over me, erasing the actions from today. The memory of the men and their bodies staining my thoughts. Their blood painting every corner of my mind.

I stepped out of my shower and quickly changed into some comfy sweatpants and a hoodie before sitting on my bed.

Papers littered the empty side of my large bed. The comforter seemed to be littered with my notes as I was devising a plan. I needed to win this war and take down John Walker.

I leaned back against my headboard as I flipped through photos of the debris a lump forming in my throat as I looked through the photos of the elementary school.

A thought came to me as I looked at three separate photos. One from the elementary school, one from the grocery store and one from my SUV. Each bomb was different, elaborate. The blasts seemed to vary in size. Each seemed to be made to be set off with a timer and each made of different fire power. They weren't American made bombs. The debris, the wires, the placement all seemed to be a familiar Russian design.

I threw the photos down with a laugh.

"Someone else is working with him..." I laughed having a moment of 'duh'.

Walker was to stupid and to much of a fist to make up anything this elaborate and covert. Maybe one bombing, but not three perfectly timed, one after the other. Someone else would have had to come up with that.

And I was determined to know if my theory was right.

I stood up from my bed, pulling out a pair of white cozy socks from my dresser. Quickly I put them on before walking out of my room and stopping beside Jonathan.

"I need 6 men," I demanded before turning and walking to my office. Making my way up the stairs and down the hall to the door, Jonathan was on the phone the whole way to my office as he called for the men I needed.