Discarded by M. Hunter (fantasy books to read .txt) 📗

pushed the drawer closed and stood, keeping her back to him and the hood of her jacket pulled over her head. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to phone the police, she was pretty sure, but that didn’t mean he would just let her go. She’d anticipated this possibility, reached into the pocket of her jacket, and gripped the handle of the small blade.

‘Who the hell are you anyway?’ he said.

She counted to five, slowly spinning on her heel and withdrawing the knife in one motion.

He was older than she remembered. Still portly, his hair was much thinner and whiter.

‘First rule of combat is never bring a knife to a gunfight,’ he sneered, cocking the pistol and gesturing for her to discard the knife.

She remained resolute in her stance; she’d come too far to give in so easily.

‘Come on, we both know I could shoot before you get anywhere near me with that thing. Pull down that hood. Let me get a look at you.’

She didn’t move until he retrained his weapon. She doubted he’d have the courage to shoot her here in his office, not with his wife due back from her trip to the hair salon, and the mess it would entail. More likely he’d make her go outside first, though she doubted he’d have it in him to pull the trigger himself.

Slowly raising her free hand, she pulled the hood from her pixie-cut brown locks. A slight hint of recognition took over his face, as if her features were familiar but he couldn’t place why or where he’d seen them before.

‘I know you, don’t I?’ he asked, still staring into her eyes.

She didn’t answer, trying to calculate if she could throw the knife before he cracked off a shot. Anything could happen, but she wasn’t trained in the art of knife throwing, and she could just as easily strike the wall as the soft tissue of his neck.

‘You might as well throw that thing away,’ he sneered again. ‘We both know you don’t have the balls to actually use it. No pun intended.’ He chuckled at his own lame joke.

She considered her surroundings. He was blocking the doorway, which meant she wouldn’t be able to get past him and downstairs to the front door. She’d left the window open, but he was bound to fire before she’d got within spitting distance of it. Even if she ran zigzags and threw herself through the open frame, the balcony was quite narrow, and she’d just as likely miss it and hurtle head-first down to the ground below.

She brought her gaze back to him and tightened her grip on the blade. ‘I’ve killed with a knife before and I’m not scared to do it again.’

His expression changed as the pieces slotted into place behind his eyes. ‘Kylie,’ he snorted. ‘I always wondered whether our paths would cross again. My, my, you’ve grown a lot since I last saw you. How long’s it been?’

‘Not long enough,’ she scowled.

‘And what’s all this? You thought you’d kill me in revenge for what happened to you?’

‘Cut off the snake’s head and it can no longer cause harm.’

‘Oh, and you think I’m the top of the chain? More fool you. I was merely a pawn in a much larger game.’

‘You’re lying.’

‘Am I? Kill me then, and watch someone else take my place.’

She couldn’t tell if he was bluffing, but as she thought back to that night at the party, when all those other children appeared from nowhere, was it possible she’d given him far more credit than he deserved?

‘I have to admit it has crossed my mind to wonder whatever became of you. I assumed you’d have been disposed of when you’d stopped serving your purpose, but then those that choose to join the cause earn themselves a reprieve.’

She closed her eyes as the memory of those she’d helped coerce flooded her mind. So many faces, too many names to recall, and yet she could remember every single one, and she would do what she could to seek their absolution.

‘Grey was another who found a way to outlast his youthful appeal. And if you think that your ending his life puts me on any kind of edge, forget about it. We both know you didn’t mean to kill him. And unless I’m very much mistaken, his dying breaths probably still haunt your dreams. I can practically read it in your face. You’re not going to stab me, so stop wasting time.’

She allowed the knife to drop from her fingers. What other choice did she have?

‘Good girl. I’m pleased to see you’ve finally learned compliance.’ He moved forwards, swallowing the distance between them and snatched the folders from beneath her arm. ‘What exactly were you looking to achieve by taking these? Nobody cares about missing children. They’re yesterday’s news stories. There’s far too much going on in the world. I bet you can’t even remember your own family, and I doubt they remember you.’

He’d lowered his guard coming so close and she quickly thrust her hands towards the weapon, hoping to take him by surprise, but he pulled his arm away before she had a chance and used his shoulder to spin her into the desk and onto her knees. She was about to try again but he quickly retrained his sights on her temple, and the fight left her.

‘Pitiful child. I never did understand why Grey became so obsessed with you. Maybe you reminded him of his own daughter. I can only assume that’s why he spent so much time ogling those photographs. I warned him not to mix business with pleasure, but he couldn’t see the dangers.’

He dropped the folders on the desk near her face and a small gust of air fluffed her fringe.

She looked back at him, suddenly doubting her own belief that he wouldn’t kill her here. But something else had now contorted his features.

‘I suppose there’s only one way for me to find out what the appeal was.’ He kept the