Edge of Danger

Four bodies, all dead, sat with their backs propped against the far wall of the small sitting room, their long legs stretched out before them on the floor, while their heads lolled to the side like lifeless rag dolls. Gruesome, animal-like slashes and bite marks faded as their flesh continued to shrivel and char, huge pieces missing in some places, as if they’d been…eaten. What remained of their bodies smoldered, but without fire and flames, as if their skin was simply incinerating of its own volition—their eyes left open, mouths slack as blood continued to pool around them in a slow, sluggish pour.

A hysterical scream suddenly crawled up from the deepest part of her body, and she scraped her bloodstained hands into her hair, her body bent forward, as if the pain were pulling her in on herself. She teetered on the rim of a dark, deep chasm that was endless and black as pitch, a breath away from plunging forward, headfirst into that bottomless, suffocating pit. The horror was viciously destructive, like a poison rushing through her veins as she thought of Javier’s close-knit family. The brothers had had nothing but each other, and yet, they’d been the most giving people she’d ever known. And now they were dead—slaughtered—because of her.

The Casus, she thought. It had to have been the Casus.

Fighting the nauseating waves of heartache, she gulped in a huge, desperate gasp of air, and the pain transformed from one second to the next, the rise of fury—of murderous, red-tinged, gnashing rage—building up from the soles of her feet. It spilled through her body like something ugly and thick, slithering beneath her skin, and Saige realized in that moment that the primal passion of her Merrick was being distorted by hatred and anger. As she lifted her head and turned to stare at Quinn, his eyes went hooded. His body tensed. Saige knew he could feel it. Knew he could sense the rise of her beast, and acceptance settled across his stoic expression.

He was prepared to deal with whatever she needed to throw at him. To deal with her.

Giving in to the visceral, animalistic burn of rage, she made a deep, guttural sound in the back of her throat, then rushed at him, battering him with her fists, her blows landing heavily on his shoulders and chest. She wanted him to fight back, to lash out at her, justifying her attack, but he only held her, weathering the brunt of her assault, while doing his best to keep her from hurting herself. It made her angrier…made her want to hate him…to hurt him. Saige screamed again, louder, deeper, until the sound bled into a raw, sobbing cry and her violent fury crashed down into another shuddering, heaving storm of tears.

Unable to face him, she turned away, curling back in on herself, and found herself staring once again at the charred bodies positioned with such sadistic care against the far wall. Blinking, she was riveted by a familiar silver bracelet on the blackened corpse that sat at the far right. The bracelet had been a gift to Javier on his sixteenth birthday from his parents, who’d both died a month later in a fire at the factory where they worked.

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