32
Brock
I stalked forward, my footfalls near silent in the fluffy snow, my knife in hand. While I didn’t remember drawing it from the scabbard on my hip, I took comfort in its weight, the darkness having decided to end life slowly rather than with a bullet that could be traced.
Once I saved Jessie, I would torch the f*****g place. Leave no physical evidence of what went down. Nothing to lead authorities to me.
No one would be out to the wilderness for months if I were lucky. No one would know Shiv and his blood—daughter included—had spilled beneath my hand.
Less than two hundred yards lay between me and my prey. My mouth watered to taste blood, my mind buzzed from lack of sleep, adrenaline keeping me upright.
Jessie.
Mine.
The buzzing intensified in my ears, and I slowed, shaking
