Addictive (Houston Defiance MC #2) - K.E. Osborn Page 0,1
power in the moment and how it charged like energy flowing through me. Like I’m the king of my own fucking universe.
Curling my lip up, I kick her in her stupid fucking head for good measure.
“Dumb fucking cunt,” I murmur.
“Hey! You need to rein your dumbass self in, kid. You’re in a fucking lot of trouble. I saw the whole damn thing,” T-Max bellows.
Turning to walk out of the home I’m currently living in—an abandoned apartment on the second floor of the worst street in Houston—I smile. If my mom wasn’t so good at using her pussy to find us accommodations, we’d have been out on the streets long ago.
Now, I have to find a way to make it on my own.
But I’m better off.
That bitch was evil.
Wiping the sweat off my brow, I continue for the door, picking up my mom’s pack of cigarettes from the filthy countertop and lighting one up on the way through. Grabbing my backpack, I swing it over my shoulder, then open the door. When the sound of T-Max cocking a gun reaches my ears, I jerk back in shock, virtually stopping me dead in my tracks.
“Can’t let you go, Talon.” He pushes the tip of the gun into my back.
Spinning around, I exhale a puff of smoke in his face, not giving a shit about any-fucking-thing right now. “T-Max, the thing is… you might see me a kid, but I just learned something.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “What’s that?”
My heart beats so fast I can hardly bear the feeling drumming in my ears.
I have the hunger, the need for it now.
He can’t stop me.
No one can.
“I have an addiction.”
He narrows his eyes. “For what?”
“Death.”
At full force, I reach out, grabbing his hand to shove the gun away as I push him out into the hall and up against the wall. In an instant, I grab the gun away from him and aim it at his head, ready to pull the trigger, and not giving two shits about the consequences.
“Police! Freeze!”
My stomach rolls, and my face pales.
T-Max chuckles. “Didn’t think with all that commotion going on in there, I wouldn’t call for backup… now, did you, kid?” T-Max chuckles.
Anxiety rushes through me as the three officers approach, so I spin to run in the other direction, but quickly realize it’s a dead end.
I’m screwed.
Fuck.
“C’mon, kid, put the weapon down and your hands up.”
Curling my lip, I figure my life’s already fucked up. What’s going to juvie going to do? It can’t be any fucking worse. It registers–I have no choice because that’s where I’m headed, so I slowly place the gun on the floor, kicking it away from me to the officer. My hands go up as I fall to my knees.
The good to come out of this is my hateful asshole of a mother will probably die. Perhaps I’ve found a new calling along with it because that rush of a life slipping through my fingers, I want that feeling again.
I need to feel it again.
It’s a high better than the drugs my mom forced on me, most of the time without my knowledge.
Death is my drug.
And I’m going to bathe in the blood of my victims.
This is what that thing in there made me into—a killer.
“Put your hands behind your head.”
Taking a deep breath, I lace my fingers behind my hair.
“We got a woman in here, Sarge. Barely feeling a pulse.”
I want to smile, knowing Mom’s out of it, but doing so in front of these cops would not be one of my brightest ideas. In fact, smiling is a sign of weakness. That shit shows your emotions, tells everyone you’re happy, and I have no idea what happiness means.
Remorseful. Yep, I need these cops to believe I’m sorry about the terrible thing I did to her, so I can get out sooner. I need to find a place that will accept me for who I am and what I am capable of.
And I will.
“You wanna tell me what happened in there, kid?”
His grip on my hands tightens making sure I don’t make any sudden movements. “She made me angry, so I choked her.”
“Was your intention to kill her?”
“Fingers crossed.”
“You’re a fucking disgrace, kid. You’re going straight to juvie.”
I stare Sarge in his eyes forcefully. “Good. Lock me up. Don’t care!”
Boss cop narrows his eyes in on me, tilting his head. “Might need a psych evaluation, too.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Hey, look, man… the kid’s a shithead, no doubt about that, but I