slam into the ground so hard the air is knocked out of me as my ears ring. I can’t hear anything for a moment, but I can see him reeling back. He slams into the wall as he grabs for his head while I desperately push myself to my feet. I’d dropped the gun when I’d fallen, so I snatch it up as I race through the open door.
He grabs for me as he roars out something loud enough that I can hear it through the ringing.
The effect from the bullets wasn’t immediate with Marcus and I know that Watson’s different, but I got all three of them right in his head before he managed to push me away.
He reaches for me in the hallway, but I slip past him because his movements are jerky and jarring as I race away.
I can’t let him get ahold of me because my blood could be the answer to him healing. Instead, I keep moving as I look for something I can use that’s sharp and can cut a head off if I manage to get so lucky.
I hear him roar as the ringing in my ears lessens and I dive behind the medical table for a chance to figure out what to do next. Quickly, I dig the regular bullets out of my pocket, even though I know they won’t likely do anything to him but piss him off. My fingers have finally steadied themselves as I load the gun and tuck it back into my pants.
Thankfully, I can now hear his footsteps, putting him on much more even ground with me as I listen to him get closer.
“What the fuck have you done to me?” he growls.
Marcus’s senses were off when he was shot, so I’m praying that Watson’s senses are also off enough I can get away.
“Finnigan!”
He staggers into the room I’m in as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest, my fear rising, but I can’t see him. For all I know, he’s already found me while I’m hiding, but I try to keep myself steady as I hear him hit something across the room.
“What the fuck did you shoot me with?” he snarls as he begins to move again. His steps become quieter, telling me he’s traveling away from me as I peek around the corner of the medical table to see what he’d knocked over. Lying on the other side of the room, next to the fallen tray, is a cleaver.
Quietly, I crawl around the side of the examination table and look through the open hallway to where he’s leaning against the wall, clearly trying to listen for me but struggling to do so.
“Doll… come here, and I’ll forgive you,” he says, voice slurring slightly, but I was hoping he’d be worse after three bullets to the head. “Why can’t you just listen? Why can’t you be good!”
I slide forward, moving slowly as I focus on the blade. He hesitates and I know if he turns around right at this instant, he’ll see me, so I draw extremely still as his head moves a little to the right as he listens. With bated breath, I watch him until he starts moving again and reach forward and grab onto the blade, pulling it back to me.
“There you are,” he growls as he rushes toward me. I push up to my feet and desperately run for the front door. He’s not as fast, the bullets have slowed him down and blood seeps from the wounds as he moves toward me, but he’s still faster than me.
He blocks my path to the door, drawing to a stop in front of it, face filled with rage.
“You are pissing me off. Come here and beg me for forgiveness. I have tried and tried and tried with you and you just won’t fucking listen!”
I hold the blade tightly in my hand as I think about what I need to do.
“Come here,” he growls and when I don’t step forward, he moves toward me.
Even slowed down, he’s quick and I barely get a chance to step backward before he’s on me. His fingers dig tightly into my throat as he turns and slams me into a wall. His free hand tears the knife from me before his fingers sink into my hair and yank my head to the side. My heart is pounding out of my chest as his fangs rip into my throat. I grab for my gun, but he snatches