Cursed Angels

I breathe a sigh of relief. The large, open, brick house is two floors with windows all lit up as if they knew we were coming. There aren’t any cars in the drive, and when we pull up to the side of the house, I notice that there isn’t any security.

Do filthy animals like this not realize their lives could be in danger?

Or are they so far above the law that they don’t care anymore?

“Are you ready, Buttercup?” Hunter questions in his normal tone. He’s trying to sound calm, like he usually does, but the small inflection in his voice tells me that he’s far from it.

Knowing Archer is involved only serves to confirm his suspicions. I’m still in love with the boy who left me in Hell.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I tell him, exiting the car without meeting his gaze. His eyes burn into me. I feel them trailing over me, wanting to delve into my mind and pick at the secrets I hold.

Hunter doesn’t allow me to lead the way even though I’m itching to race inside and get this over with. But I’m not far behind him. His warmth is something I crave, so I keep close as I shadow him the way I’ve done so many times before. Each job we took, every time we were out in the field, I had him by my side.

Pulling out my lockpicking device, I crouch down at the back door and begin my work. With a gentle click, the lock is open, and I push the door until it cracks. The house smells of pine and mint. It wafts through the air, hitting my nostrils, reminding me of a time when I wanted this woman to burn in hell.

As we make our way through the kitchen, I take in the plush furnishings, the expensive appliances, and the warmth that blazes through the house. She must have her heating on. Sweat trickles down my spine, causing me to shiver involuntarily.

A sound prickles my ears from the second floor. Lifting my hand, I signal that I’m heading upstairs. There’s no sound coming from the hallway, no echoes of voices or sounds of life. Silently, we stalk through the passage toward a cream-colored door. The gentle hue is a contrast to the midnight blue carpet.

A tap on my shoulder causes me to halt. Then I see it, the shadow moving beneath the door. She’s awake. Smiling, I inch closer, closing the distance between me and my revenge.

I reach for the handle while pulling the knife from my holster. I’m ready. My body vibrates with knowing. Soon, I’ll have her in my clutches, and I’ll claw her eyes out.

I don’t wait. I can’t. My blood hums approval as I twist the doorknob. There’s a whispered creak as I push open the door and find myself face to face with the woman who took something from me that I’ll never be able to get back.

The thing that makes me a woman.

“Who the hell are you?” she screeches, her voice shrill, dripping with fear and anger.

I don’t respond. Instead, I shove her backward. She trips on her silky, red nightgown as she stumbles.

Hunter pushes by me, his body large and foreboding. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls, gripping her by the nape of her neck and shoving her into the chair positioned at the window.

The night sky is inky, the moon hidden behind clouds making the evening eerily black. She peeks up at me, as if to beg me for an answer while Hunter binds her to the chair.

I lean in, getting in her face. “You are a sick bitch,” I hiss at her. “Do you remember what you did to me?”

Her frown is all the answer I need. I grab another amulet filled with the sweet poison that killed Hickson. It’s time for her to see just what I have in store for her today.

I’ve always been fascinated with the eyes. Watching how they spurt wildly with fluid when pierced or prodded, I’ve always been intrigued.

“Please, I don’t know you. Just let me go, please,” she pleads, her voice low and fearful.

My mouth curls into a smirk. “Did you really think you could get away with hurting children?”

I glance over at Hunter, who’s on her laptop, which had been perched on her bed. Her eyes dart between him and me, but the fear that creases her face is not for me or the amulet I’m holding close to her eyes. It’s for Hunter.

“Samara Eldrige.”

He lifts the computer, turning the screen toward me. There’s a folder with my name as the title. I nod. He sets it down once more, tapping the key to open it. I’ve seen Hunter in every state of anger, rage, and even pleasure, but the expression on his face is not like anything I’ve seen before.