Chapter 81 Lines Of Fire

• The storm outside hadn’t let up. Rain hammered the roof of the safehouse in relentless sheets, drowning the city in static, but it did nothing to wash the blood from the walls. Or from my hands.
• I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the crimson-streaked sheets where one of ours had been slaughtered hours ago. My body was here, but my mind… my mind was still at the door. Still hearing Jason’s voice slide through the cracks like smoke, curling into my lungs, poisoning me.
• Jaxon paced the length of the room, every line of his body pulled taut, a predator caged by walls too thin and a threat too close. He hadn’t holstered his gun since Jason knocked. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the shadows.