Chase Me

Chapter Eleven: Mari

Amo

4:00 PM

I wiped the rag across the pliers and set the murky brown-and-red-stained cloth down. I could hear laboured breathing from behind me along with a slight whine now and then. I turned to the man—Michael was the name we got out of him. His head was swung back against the back of the chair but I watched how every now and then he struggled to straighten his spine so he could spit out the blood collecting in his mouth. Nex came over and took out his bloody gauze. The bleeding in his mouth had dulled down.

I leaned my back against the cold wall of the room, arms crossed. "Want to give it to me now?"

He shook his head, a laugh that sounded more like a cough coming out of him. His voice had lost a lot of its energy, but he still managed to hold onto his arrogance. "Amo. You know us. We spread and are hard to get rid of."

I pushed myself off of the wall. "Yes. Daffodils. Weeds, they are."

He smiled. "Bellona Maeve. A beauty, isn't she?"

I clenched my fists behind my back but kept my face calm. My voice gave me away. "Yes. She is."

His smile turned sour. He leaned as far as he could in his seat. "How does it feel, Amo? Knowing I was the last one she met before fleeing. The last one who got to touch her."

I breathed deeply. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

"She has smooth skin, Amo. Have you felt it?"

I pulled out my gun and pretended to examine it, trying to get my brain to focus on something else. "Any woman's skin would be soft to you. I bet your dry streak is going long now."

He grinned. "It would've been broken had I gotten her."

Fuck being calm.

I shot the gun before both Lucas and Nex could stop me, wanting to shut the fucker up before he could say anything else.

I didn't aim for Michael's head. Or his chest, or anywhere that would've caused immediate or close to immediate death.

I went straight for between his legs.

He screamed. The scent of blood became suffocating here. I stalked towards him, taking my time. "Nex, gag him."

He did, but Michael's screams didn't muffle greatly. I seized his chin and forced him to look at me, my voice straining to stay collected. "I can help you. I'll stop the pain if you tell me what you know. What you have, as you said."

He whimpered, shaking his head. I pulled out my knife and let it scratch against the wood of the chain, inching closer to the bloody mess I created. Michael watched it, chest heaving.

"I'm going to ask you again, now." My blade's tip met the wound and Michael flinched. I didn't move it anymore, just stared at him. "What do you know, Michael?"

His eyes closed and he swallowed deeply. "I saa a thickeh."

I removed his gag so he could speak more clearly. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before whispering. "I saw a ticket."

"What kind of ticket?" I asked, pulling the blade back, but only an inch.

Michael turned his head and spat out the blood in his mouth.

"I bumped into her and I saw a ticket in her pocket. A plane ticket."

I stood. "Did you happen to catch any details?"

Michael shook his head, grinning. "I think I was lucky then to see the ticket."

"Well, your luck ran dry. Did you see anything on the ticket?" I said again.