As the agent attempts to free himself, his struggle becomes futile when the latch jams. He glances back once to gauge the truck’s distance as the engine revs, then the truck lurches forward.

I look at Dr. Keller. “Run. Go.”

Her shrill scream proceeds her sloppy scramble from the vehicle. She stumbles and quickly rights herself, not stopping even when she’s made it safely across the street as she bolts into the dense thicket.

I curl Halen tighter to me, then spare a glance at Hernandez.

“Get out of here,” he says, his wide gaze on Halen cradled against my chest.

With the fraction of a second I have to weigh my options, I predict Halen’s grief at the loss of the agent. Muttering a curse, I reach across the front seat and grab hold of the belt, releasing a furious grunt as both Hernandez and I fight to muscle the latch free.

Giving the belt one final yank, I break the buckle. Our eyes connect briefly before Hernandez escapes his seat.

I wrap my arm around Halen. Now more cognizant, she reaches for her bag. “Wait⁠—”

“Leave it.”

The storm in her hazel eyes traps me, imploring. “It has the evidence.”

“Fuck.” I sacrifice my hold on her just long enough to snag the strap and then have her rocked against me, falling backward out of the SUV seconds before the truck smashes into the backend.

The screech of metal on metal rends the air upon collision. The SUV is dislodged from the trunk of the tree and sent barreling down the embankment.

As the truck flies past, Hernandez pivots and draws his service weapon, taking aim at the tires. He fires off two shots before the truck kicks into Reverse.

I have Halen’s arms locked around my neck as we slide down the side of the steep incline. I glance up in time to witness the rear of the truck clip Hernandez before he’s able to escape its path.

The truck brakes, kicking up a cloud of debris.

Lowering Halen to the rocky earth, I unlink her arms from my neck and drop her bag. “Get the knife.”

Her beautiful face sheened with sweat, she captures my hand. A raw abrasion reddens her cheek from where the airbag took aim. And while I’m struck by how lovely she is in her damaged state, those silvery eyes spear me with cold fury.

She holds me bound no longer than a heartbeat, but I read each turbulent emotion raging within her.

This moment was unavoidable.

I reach out and sweep the white streak behind her ear. “If you need to loathe me, I can accept that. But loathe me with a vengeance while you take that fucking knife out.”

The slam of truck doors severs our connection, and I suffer the loss of her touch as I turn to see two men exiting the hulking vehicle.

Clothed in black sweatshirts, they advance with their hoods drawn up, their faces masked by large, unnerving stag skulls. The white horns are filed into sharp points to resemble spikes projecting from their heads.

I’d be impressed with their resourceful endeavor to intimidate if not for their supreme stupidity in endangering the reason for my fucking existence.

Hernandez is sprawled on the ground, his gun lost at some point during the impact. Where his pant leg is torn at the thigh, deep-red blood escapes the injury. One of the skull boys descends on him, and Hernandez is just aware enough to throw up his hands as the assailant bears down with a syringe.

Within the same beat, I’m confronted by the second guy and staring into the hollow sockets of a skull, my entire body rioting with the desire to commit carnage.

Destruction will serve more than one purpose today.

As I lunge toward him, he meets my sluggish attack with an elbow to my face, thoughtlessly knocking me aside like an afterthought as he stays on his course.

Going straight for Halen.

Hellfire licks my viscera as I lurch to my feet. Seconds before he reaches her, I tackle him to the uneven terrain and pin my knee between his shoulder blades. I look up in search of Halen, finding her with the bagged knife held in her grip. Good girl.

I wrestle him onto his back and brace my forearm against his throat, taking note of his wiry frame. He’s a spry motherfucker for his average size, and curiosity has me bashing the skull off his face.

“Shit, I know him.” Halen’s voice is shaky as she steps near.

The local officer glares up at me, eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth gasping uselessly for oxygen as I press down on his larynx. I vaguely recall him from the night of Alister’s assault on Halen.

“You were there,” she accuses him, her tone low, but I hear the threat banked behind her deceptive calm. “Were you following me?”

I don’t let up on his throat. There’s nothing he can say that will change his damned fate. His singular focus on Halen gives me the only answer I need.

He will soon be a dead skull boy.

I direct my gaze up to Halen, where she’s still clutching the knife. “Remove the bag,” I tell her, my words grit between clenched teeth.

She’s trembling from adrenaline, still shaken from the wreck, an accident not unlike the one where she was driving, or the hit-and-run that took her parents. The difference is, this time, she has someone she can punish.

As her emotions climb, she toes the edge of that terrace all over again, her hair as wild as her eyes, her fear tearing through her logic. She’s an aphrodisiac hitting my bloodstream.

God, she’s fucking hypnotic.

She fears the terrible things we’re capable of, the loss of control.

She fears us.

Little Halen is frightened over so much about herself, terrified to face that part of herself she lost control of once before. But it’s not a door that can be sealed off once it’s been opened.

Fuck, she blew the hinges right off.

Both hands still gripped to the bagged knife hilt, she cages her emotions and levels me with a tapered gaze, and I swear I’ve never been punched harder by a fucking look.

If she removes the knife, evidence is lost—my evidence. My fingerprints and DNA on the weapon.

It only lasts a moment, but her doubt detonates inside every single one of my cells, the destruction catastrophic.

“I can’t loathe you, Kallum,” she says. “There are more emotions on the spectrum than lust and anger. I’m hurt. I’m…heartbroken.” She swallows hard, and the pain in her eyes impales me. “Leave him alive. I can’t help you otherwise.”

The guy beneath me is fading, his struggle all but forgotten as I watch Halen lower the knife. She avoids my eyes as she tosses the weapon on the ground, her decision made.

Without a backward glance, she pushes her hair out of her face and starts in the agent’s direction. A white-hot coal of rage burns in the pit of my stomach.

My muse might have a death wish, but I won’t let her so much as break a nail for Hernandez.

The guy falls unconscious beneath my arm, and I lower my mouth near his ear. “You’re lucky I have some groveling to do.” Then I send my fist into his face. The wet smack of his blood is satisfying as his head drops sideways.

Once I’m on my feet, I prop the heel of my boot on his shoulder and give him a hard shove, sending him toppling down the sloped ridge. Unconscious, he settles near the totaled SUV.

Then my entire focus is on Halen. She stands at the edge of the fray between Hernandez and his attacker, where the agent is losing his fight.

I could let Hernandez die right now. A more selfish, smarter version of myself would do exactly that. Whatever he suspects of me would die with him, and while Halen would mourn his loss, it would be one less obstacle.

But my obstinate muse strips me of my free will once again when she launches herself onto the guy’s back.

“Fucking hell.” I shrug off my suit jacket and toss it to the ground. My muscles band painfully tight around my bones as fire gathers between my sinew and flesh.