HauntingAdie {1}

C39

The Shadow

“You eat meat raw?” I question, the deep note of my tone traveling across the table.
Everyone quietens.
“Well, of course not!” Daniel booms, laughing at what he probably considers a
stupid question.
“A sacrifice must be made first. Then we drink the blood and take her—”
“We don’t get to have fun with her first?” I interrupt, my voice deepening with
disappointment. “That’s half the fun, brother.”
Eyes shift, glancing at each other, waiting for Daniel’s response to my
demands. He stares at me, a slight smile on his face. I cock a brow, waiting for
my answer.
When I do, Daniel laughs, a pleasant surprise radiating from his face. My own
is serious, eyes never straying from Daniel’s.
He breaks eye contact first, looking over to where the servant is holding the
scared little girl.
“Bring her here.”
I rest back in my chair, my movements languid and relaxed. On the inside,
there’s a war raging—the battlefield in my gut bloody and vicious. I want to tear
this entire house down, shredding every sick individual in here with only my
hands and teeth.
I’ll show them what it feels like to be eaten by a monster.
The servant hurdles the girl forward, consistently shoving the girl forward due
to her digging her little heels in. She knows something bad is coming.
But what she doesn’t know is I will do everything in my power to stop that
from happening.
When the girl reaches us, my hand snaps out, gripping the girl’s tiny wrist in
my hand. Her wide eyes jerk to mine, and what I see in them nearly breaks my
heart. Her eyes are swirling with sorrow and fear. It’s an expression no child
should ever wear on their face.
“What’s your name?”

Dan scoffs, but I ignore him. “S-Sarah,” she says quietly, her voice mousy. I
want to hurl her into my chest and run out of here, but I think we both know that’s
not possible.
“Sit on my lap, Sarah,” I order firmly.
Reluctantly, she listens. Her eyes drop as she climbs on my lap, but I don’t
miss the tears welling in her eyes beforehand.
The sick feeling grows more potent as I help her up, keeping her body at my
knees with one hand high on her back and my other on her knee. Areas that are
not sexual but will be perceived as dominating to the others. I’d prefer not to
touch her at all—she’s viewing this as something predatory—but I feel safest with
her close when there’s a bunch of adults eyeing her like she’s their next meal.
Literally.
I force a predatory smile on my face and lean in, my lips at her ear, and
whisper so only she can hear, “You’re safe with me. Keep quiet.”
Dan observes the interaction closely, a hint of displeasure in his eyes. From his
vantage point, he wouldn’t have been able to read my lips. And he’s not the type
of man that appreciates secrets being told in front of his face.
Sarah is smart. She doesn’t react. Doesn’t nod or speak. She just continues to
look at her clasped hands, tremors wracking her petite body as if she’s in the
middle of a snowstorm.
I look up at Daniel. “Am I expected to have an audience, or can I enjoy her
elsewhere?” I ask, looking at the girl with anticipation.
He will think I'm anticipating all the ways I'm going to hurt her, but in reality,
I'm picturing little Sarah being carried away by Ruby while I poise his head over
a knife.
Dan’s mouth quirks at the look on my face, his expression softening back into
ease once more.
I’m a damn good actor. I’d never survive in this field of work otherwise.
“We would love to watch,” Dan says smoothly, leaning back in his own chair,
while one hand snakes under the table. I can’t see what he’s doing from my angle,
but I don’t need to in order to know that he’s squeezing himself.
I’m going to enjoy killing him.
“P-please take me home,” Sarah cries, the dam bursting as tears spill over her
lashes and down her cherub cheeks.
I wipe the tears from her cheeks, silently praising her for flinching away from
my touch, even though it makes me feel like my insides are in a dumpster fire.
“Don’t cry, sweetie,” I coo aloud. She cries harder, and my heart blisters from
the fury.
Dan licks his lips with unrestrained hunger, reaching over to do what—I don’t
know. My hand that’s wrapped around her neck whips out, grabbing his hand with a firmness that has him instantly freezing.
“I don’t share,” I growl, letting some of the pent-up anger loose. Dan jerks his
hand away, raising them in the air in surrender.
“Possessive,” he chuckles, glancing at the guests. Embarrassment flashes in his
eyes, but it’s gone before it can truly settle. That just might come back to bite me
in the ass—Dan also isn’t the type of man that takes well to public humiliation.
Not that I’m truly concerned with the backlash. He’ll be dead soon anyways.
While Dan’s eyes cast over the dinner table, I slyly press the button on my
watch, keeping my hands under the table. By the time his eyes are drifting back to
me, my hands return to their previous position.
“Please, proceed… brother,” he tacks on at the end, the word said with an
inflection of challenge.
I flash a feral grin, not holding back in the slightest. His eyes heat at the sight,
likely assuming that he’s about to get a show of a lifetime.
Before either of us can move, a loud banging on the front door startles us both.
A muffled, indiscernible shout follows. Dan’s eyes look towards the front of the
house, brow furrowing in confusion.
“Who the hell would dare…?” he mutters under his breath, aghast that
someone is nearly breaking down his front door.
Panicked, hushed whispers rise from the group, the guests turning to each other
with fearful gazes.
“Daniel,” I snap, catching his attention. “I don’t want to wait much longer.”
“Of course, I’ll be sure to hurry,” he placates, appearing more flustered as
others from the table continue to speak their concern and discomfort. Another
loud crash startles the group, and then seconds later, a booming crash sounds,
causing the guests to jump. Some even rise from their seats, ready to bolt.
And then, “FBI! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!”
The rest of the guests jump up now, myself included. Gently, I set Sarah down
beside me but hold onto her arm firmly as the room breaks out into chaos. The
dinner guests scatter like ants, screams and shouts bouncing around the room.
The door to the dining room crashes open, eliciting more screams. Several FBI
agents storm the room, shouting out demands for everybody to get down.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to the girl, attempting to guide her towards the kitchen
door.
She struggles and screams for one of the agents, that dormant fire in her finally
erupting.
I’m so fucking proud of her.
I pick her up and whisper in her ear. “Those FBI agents are with me. I’m going
to take you back home, but I need you to work with me.”