The cell doors opened and Cain twitched with the aftershocks of what could only be an aneurism in his brain. The pain receded to a stabbing blade in his temporal lobe. His body twitched in an imposed paralysis as Bishop King stepped over his wasted body.
His shoes scraped into view. “I have compassion for your suffering, but my tolerance wears thin at your insolence. I assure you, the chains and bars are not what hold you here. Your struggles are pointless.”
His jaw remained locked, preventing the passage of words as shockwaves tore through his nerve endings.
“The pain will be over soon. Let us not speak of your brother’s mate again, my son.”
Breath jerked through his teeth and nose as the Bishop stepped out of view and relocked the bars. The lamps extinguished, and his footsteps receded down the long corridor.
The resounding pain in his skull spilled out of him in the form of tears. When he was finally alone, nothing but cold, emptiness filling his soul, his fists fell open on the filthy floor.
“Annalise...”
Chapter Forty-Five
Vito Santos pinched off the amber tip of his cigarette and tossed the butt into the potted plant a few feet from the door of the club. The empty parking lot welcomed lower middle class cars and a few high rollers, who could only be lost.
Cars sped down the pocked pavement of Route 13. A superior waste of money had been dumped into redeveloping the median strips to contain gardens, but those plans had turned into a cemetery of weeds and litter. They were down to only two girls a night, with no fresh blood to entice a better clientele.
The girls made shitty tips, but they’d work every dick in the place, doing whatever it took to wring every last dime from the few guys that came by. He checked his phone. Busy or not, he was stuck here until closing.
Their clientele wasn’t the sort that promised any sort of escape. No, those big spenders hung at the city clubs. Vito had pushed for a promotion, but his bosses weren’t having it. Bouncing out the grabby comb-overs and holding the door for men willing to blow their paycheck on pussy, really didn’t bring a lot of purpose to his life.
Seeing snatch on a daily basis had a way of desensitizing a man. The lure of a tight pair of lips or a nice set of tits faded long ago. It had been years since he’d touched a genuine set of tits. He was sick of the silicone implants, tired of doing favors for an after-hours hand job from a girl who just wanted to make it home to her kid but needed him to jump her battery.
He loathed the man he’d become. Reaching in his front pocket, he withdrew another smoke. His thumb clicked the top of his zippo and he stilled. A horn blared. Brakes squealed.
Headlights flashed as cars spun and swerved out of the way. Tearing metal screamed as someone plowed into the guardrail, sending sparks raining onto the pavement below.
“The fuck?”
A horn blared and someone yelled. He pocketed his lighter and squinted. The rails of the overpass blocked his view, and the screeching horn cut off.
Something caught the corner of his eyes. A flash of white, like a sheet falling off the bridge into the vacant lot across Route 13.
Cars rushed by. Another horn peeled into the air as a car swerved, lights splaying off course. The overgrown weeds of the median parted as a figure crossed.
He rolled his eyes. Probably another fucking junkie trying to find their next high. Fucker better not come into his lot.
Lighting his cigarette, he drew in a long drag and stilled. The frail form of a thin woman wearing only a nightshirt crossed into traffic.
“Jesus! Watch out!”
Brakes squealed as cars slammed to a stop. She moved undeterred.
“Get out of the fucking road!” he yelled.
A curtain of dark hair flowed in her wake, reaching past her hips. Something flashed on her face and he jerked back. She was still a good forty feet away, but heading right toward him.
“What the...” Her eyes glowed.
He dropped his cigarette and blindly reached for the door, missing, but too afraid to take his eyes off the woman coming at him. She looked like a witch, or that crazy bitch from the exorcist.
Her eyes... He couldn’t look away. It was as if she compelled him to stay still. His phone rested in his back pocket, but he couldn’t reach for it.
Her willowy form showed under her translucent gown. No one dressed like that. Even Walmart people wore more clothes, in public, at night.
His skin prickled. Her feet were bare. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... She was getting closer.
She stopped. Her gaze lifted over his head. She turned her stare back to him, her glowing eyes studying his face. Mother of Christ she was stunning.