Corrupt (Devil's Night 1)

I peered over at him. “Because she can’t say no to a challenge.” And I turned back, looking out the window. “Just go see how bad Damon is hurt.”

He hesitated a moment as if weighing his options and then walked off.

“Son of a bitch!” Damon howled from downstairs, and I heard a crash of dishes.

I didn’t bother holding back my small grin. I couldn’t believe she’d hidden a weapon on us. I was glad we’d given her the dagger, after all.

I closed my eyes and ran my hand over the top of my head. What the hell was I going to do?

How was I going to stop them?

Twisting around, I jogged down the stairs, spotting drops of Damon’s blood on the floor as I walked past, heading toward the kitchen.

“Nothing you take from me will come easily!” a high-pitch shout raged through the

house, and I stopped, recognizing Rika’s voice.

It sounded staticky and distant.

“I won’t come all the way out there to get you,” I heard Will growl as I stood just outside the kitchen.

I clenched my fists. The intercom. He’d found her.

Every room in the house, including the garden shed, had an intercom. He must’ve figured out the same as me. She didn’t have anywhere else to run.

“Oh, yes, you will!” she snarled back, challenging him. “You’re the pack’s dog. Come fetch, little dog!”

I couldn’t help the curl of my lips. Good girl.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” Will barked. It was clear he was frustrated. Will never got mean.

Until he did.

But then another voice came in, smooth and threatening. “I’ll come to get you,” Damon chimed in. “And I’ll want my blood back.”

I ground my teeth together.

Stepping into the kitchen, I saw Kai opening and closing cabinets, probably looking for First-Aid supplies, while Damon held a towel to the lower left side of his torso and leaned into the intercom on the wall.

“I will take it out of your ass before we leave that shed, Rika,” he warned. “Don’t run.”

And then he stepped away and threw down the towel as Will began taping a huge patch of gauze over his wound.

It wasn?

??t vicious—the blood seeping through the gauze was slow—but it was big. She’d slashed him good.

Will’s bloodstained hands worked as Damon winced and picked up a cigarette he’d lit, taking a long drag.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I told him, walking in and diving down into one of the drawers on the island, pulling out the peroxide.

“Fuck you,” Damon threw back.

He shoved Will away and flicked his cigarette in the sink, turning and charging out of the kitchen and into the solarium.

I shot out from behind the counter and caught his arm, slamming him into the wall. He struggled, and I immediately wrapped my hand around his neck, pinning him to the wall. My other hand pressed into the gauze over his fresh wound.

“Fuck!” he shouted, knocking my hands away, but I just came back in again. “Get off me!”