Nightfall (Devil's Night #4) - Penelope Douglas Page 0,177

will play out that little fantasy of hers and put Alex to some good use the way everyone else has.”

I lunged. “Will!”

Micah grabbed me, and I dropped the gun, shooting my palm up to his fucking nose as Alex shot out and caught Rory’s arm, spinning him around and shoving him into the wall.

He headbutted the stone, and I dropped down, picked up my bayonet, rushing to Will.

But Aydin was there, stopping me and taking me in his arms, wrapping them around me like a steel band and holding me hostage.

“Wendy, Wendy,” he taunted. “It’s true, then. One girl is worth twenty boys, it seems. So glad you’re on my team.”

His mouth came down on mine, his scruff and sweat grinding against my lips as he moved over me, stealing my breath.

Will.

I grunted, a sob lodging in my throat as I pressed against his blood-soaked shirt and tried to twist my head away.

Oh, God.

And then…a whisper came in close—calm, hard, and deep. “You’re not Peter,” it said.

I blinked my eyes open in time to see Will standing right behind Aydin, the ropes suddenly gone.

Slipping an arm around Aydin’s neck, Will grabbed his wrist, pulled him off me, and yanking his arm so far back that Aydin cried out, forcing him to the ground. In one quick motion, Will brought down his foot at the joint where Aydin’s arm met his shoulder, and a pop pierced the air, Aydin’s howl echoing throughout the cellar.

I gaped at Will who’d just brought Aydin to his knees in less than two seconds, not even losing breath.

“What the hell?” I muttered.

Alex and I stood there as Will stared down at Aydin’s form, a serrated knife in his hand and the rope around his wrists severed.

Where had he gotten that knife?

He inhaled a deep breath and straightened his back, cutting off the rope bracelets, sheathing the knife, and sticking it back into his pocket.

“Will…” I stepped forward.

He shook his head, telling me to keep quiet as he glared at the man on the brick floor.

Aydin shot up, but Will swung his fist down, landing right on his throat.

I narrowed my eyes, able to do nothing more than stare at him and blink.

Aydin gasped, hunching over and too disabled to speak or even breathe.

Will circled him as Taylor watched, and Micah and Rory stood frozen, clearly not sure what was happening.

“I was in prison,” Will said to Aydin. “A real one. Did you actually think I didn’t have any of this under control?”

Aydin looked up at him, a worry and puzzlement I’d never seen in his eyes now.

“I waited,” Will continued. “I was prepared to be as patient as possible to get you to follow.”

He dropped down, hovering over Aydin as he gripped the back of his head and delivered two punches to his face.

Aydin’s nose spilled with blood, and he reared back and hit Will, throwing him off and crawling away until he could scramble to his feet.

They both faced each other, widening their stances, and Aydin charged Will, throwing his body into his stomach. They crashed back onto the floor, and I lurched forward, but Micah shot out his arm, stopping me.

“I want to see this,” he said.

I darted my worried eyes to Will. His skin flushed and sweat pouring down his back, he rolled, hit, kneed, kicked, and did everything with rage in his eyes.

He wasn’t taking it like he had been since I’d been here.

This was Will.

Bloody and breathing hard, he punched Aydin in the stomach and rose, sending a hard kick to his head.

“It would’ve been perfect,” he growled. “You know that? Teaming up. Being equals, but I didn’t want to win you over with fear. I didn’t want to control you with violence.”

Aydin tried to get his legs under him, but he kept falling back to the ground.

“I wanted to be important to you,” Will told him. “If I were important to you, you’d follow me anywhere.”

Follow him? What was Will talking about? Why did he want Aydin to follow him?

“It would’ve been perfect, because you’re one of us,” Will panted, circling his prey, “but it seems I have no more time to waste on you. It seems I didn’t anticipate you had your own agenda with me.”

Meaning me—and Aydin bringing me here.

He sniffled, wiping the blood off his face.

“Rory.” He jerked his chin to the supply of rope sitting on the table. “Micah, help him.”

They tied up Aydin who was too exhausted and beat, barely kicking and thrashing as they