Andi King didn't know how to play nice, because quite frankly, she didn't like people. She was a loner and that was how she liked it. Especially with a sadistic demon dead set on destroying her and anyone she got close to.
But that all changes when...
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"Message number one from JOHN WINCHESTER - Andi, where are you? I toldyounottoleavethe motel. - message deleted."
"Message number two from JOHN WINCHESTER - Call meback - message deleted."
"Message number three from JOHN - Andi God dammit. Where are you? This plan isonlygoingto work ifyou - message deleted."
"Message number four from ANSWER YOUR PHONE ANDI! - message deleted."
"Message number - message deleted."
"Message - message deleted."
"Me - message deleted."
I sighed as I shoved my phone back into the pocket of my leather jacket. This man couldn't take a hint. What part of I need some space was so hard to understand? I was sick of living with only one purpose, and for the last few months, the only purpose I had was leverage. I was bait, a pawn in John Winchester's game. Getting moved from one motel to another in a different city every night. I knew he had a plan, and I knew I was vital, but there were only so many stains a girl could sleep on before she completely lost her mind.
I probably should have at least told him that I was going, but knowing what little I did about the man, he probably would have just handcuffed me to the bed instead of pleading and begging for me to stay. I was all about hunting the bastard that stole my childhood, but for the first time in my life, my demon wasn't the priority -my sanity was, and if I wasn't careful, I wasn't sure how long that would last.
He was suffocating me and, quite frankly, starting to scare me: summoning spells, excessive torture, and exorcisms. I had seen them all before and even dabbled myself, but the look in his eyes when he smoked a demon or ran his blade through the neck of a shifter was far beyond satisfaction. It was pure pleasure.
It was true that he had shown me more in the last few months than I had ever learned on my own, but the more time I spent with him, the quicker I realized that I wasn't truly a part of this odd little dance we played. Nine times out of ten, he ghosted me and went off on his own, leaving me vulnerable from all sides. I had had about enough of it because f I had spent any more time with that man, I wouldn't live long enough to see that yellow-eyed bastard fall.
