Broken Promises (The Brianna Lane Series)

by Belinda Boring

“Okay, when you hear this message, call me.” I dropped my hand as I hung up, my grip barely holding onto my phone. I could feel my new sense of purpose weaken and the sound of my mantra grow faint.

  Releasing a deep sigh, I sat on the curb, having no idea where to go next. It made sense to return home and gather a few things but my gut told me it would be the first place Quinn would go. I wasn’t ready to be alone with him—not before I had answers. I began to walk, letting my feet choose the direction. Sooner or later I’d figure it out, maybe see something that would spark a solid plan.

  With things reasonably quiet in my head, I could avoid thinking about the problem directly and focus on the mundane instead. How many steps before I hit a crack in the sidewalk? How many breaths it took to cross a street? One, two, three, four, five—stop and start—over and over and over. As a fragile sense of calmness came over me, I told myself I could do this forever.

  I passed by an alleyway before turning the corner and almost interrupted a fight in progress. The two men hadn’t noticed me yet and I stood there frozen, terrified any move I made would draw their attention.

  It was one thing to see a fight on TV and another to see it in real life. I’d never realized how noisy it could be as flesh pounded on flesh—the grunts and growls that came from beating someone to a bloody pulp.

  I knew I was in shock as I studied the scene with a detached and clinical eye. Gore trickled down their faces as noses were smashed, causing cartilage to break and blood to gush everywhere. It had no effect on me. One stranger spat, ridding his mouth of the teeth that had been knocked free. I didn’t blink an eye.

  I stood there macabrely fascinated and didn’t even flinch when a gun was produced, turning the fight I’d just witnessed into something much more deadly. Without skipping a beat, the weaponless man charged as his snarl filled the air. It was complete insanity.

  The trigger was pulled and the sound of the gun retort pierced the air, breaking the hold the scene had over me. Sweat moistened my palms as I realized with one wrong move, that gun could swivel around and point at me next.

  The victor paused for a moment and then walked over to the lifeless body. He began firing again, shooting an endless stream of bullets until all I could hear was the clicking from an empty chamber. Quietly, I started retreating, but almost gave myself away when I watched the guy pull back his foot and strike the now dead man—kick after sickening kick. Now the only sound was his shoes pounding on flesh.

  My focus never left the stranger as I continued creeping away. There was no doubt I would be next, and I had too much to live for. If something happened to me, Quinn would be lost and that was unacceptable.

  When he finally finished, he violently spat on the victim before shoving the empty gun into the back of his jeans. He turned to look around, no doubt checking to see if someone had come investigating the gunshots. Other than me, he was alone.

  I was almost out of sight, reaching the corner, but at the last moment he saw me. He wore an excited expression that bordered feral possession and gave him a maniacal edge. The cruel grimace on his face said it all—he was converted and from the looks of it, completely turned on by the brutal murder he’d just committed. Terror struck me, causing my senses to explode inside my chest—all numbness completely gone. I was feeling again and for the second time tonight I knew I was going to die.

  I weighed my options. I had no weapons, nothing but my fists to give me a chance at defending myself. I could flee again, but something told me if I ran, he would easily overtake me, and the thought made me shudder.

  He approached and I began praying for somewhere to hide. Taking quick looks over my shoulder, I saw an alleyway and estimated the entrance was about ten steps away. I didn’t know if I could reach it in time. The fact he hadn’t spoken a word heightened my fear and my legs trembled in anticipation. Everything felt sinister—as if even the street itself held its breath, waiting to see what would happen.

  He was almost to the corner when the sound of brakes screeched further up the street, breaking the silent tension. Whoever controlled the vehicle was driving too fast and the car almost spun out of control. Correcting the mistake, the driver slammed on the gas and gunned down the street toward us.

  Hoping the guy was momentarily distracted, I sprinted and entered the alleyway, rapidly searching every nook and cranny to find an adequate hiding spot. Everything seemed too exposed, but going back into the street wasn’t an option—especially if an additional threat was entering the scene.

  Tires squealed to a stop and seconds later, car doors slammed shut. Throwing caution to the wind, I bolted down the alley and found an empty store entrance cluttered with refuse. With no time to clear the trash, I pushed myself into the corner—making myself as small as possible.

  My legs were pulled tightly to my chest, my head resting on my knees. I tried to still myself so I could hear what was happening out in the street, but between the heartbeat pounding in my ears and my rapid breathing, I could only catch murmurs and the odd comment.

  It sounded like even more people were fighting—muffled grunts as bodies absorbed heavy blows, followed shortly by the noise of someone yelling obscenities. I heard faint footsteps as someone fled the scene and then everything went quiet.

  I leaned forward, hoping the next sound would be car doors reopening. I waited for the loud roar of an engine revving to life, but I heard nothing. It crossed my mind maybe the vehicle’s owner was dead, sparking the internal debate whether I should check if the street was clear. Uncertainty warred within. A chill was starting to settle in and I didn’t want to be caught outside any longer than I had to. Sooner or later, I’d need shelter.

  Inch by careful inch, I slowly began gathering my courage; almost convinced it was safe enough to take a look. Just as I stood, I heard voices and I immediately sank back into a crouch.

  “Dammit, I thought I told you to take care of it.” The voice was masculine and laced with frustration. “You knew the plan so what the hell happened?” The response was distorted, making it difficult to interpret. There was a brief lapse and I hoped it meant they were leaving, but the next words sent me straight into a blind panic.

  “We’ll have to let it go for now. Did you see where the woman went?” More muffled replies but the word “alleyway” amplified through the air.

  Footsteps echoed between the buildings and I finally heard the other person. “I’m pretty sure I saw her head in here, but who knows? I say we forget her and go to where the action is. After that guy, I’m pumped and ready for more.”

  My heart sank. Even though it appeared the men worked together, their last comment suggested they were also converted.

  My night keeps getting better. I silently groaned.

  Someone moved closer, only to stop after a few steps. My fear heightened and I scrunched my eyes tight, willing myself to be invisible. Everything hung in the balance. One more stride and there was a good chance they’d find me—one small sound and I’d give myself away.

  As the moment stretched, tension cracking like a live wire, a cellphone began ringing. I cringed and braced myself for the confrontation. My phone had given my hiding place away and now I was going to have to fight for my life. My muscles tensed and my heart hammered as I readied myself. I waited for them to come but nothing happened. There was only one answer—it wasn’t my device making the noise.

  Someone cursed. “Yeah, it’s me. I can hear you.” Judging from the way his voice wavered, it sounded like he was pacing.

  “No, the guy got away but Pierce says he saw a woman. I’m checking to see whether she’s a threat or not.” He went silent, listening to the caller’s response.

  My legs started cramping from being crouched for so long and I stifled back a cry as the muscles began to spasm. It was so painful I was almost tempted to limp out into the open, giving myself up just so I could stretch.

  “Okay, we’ll head over there now,” the guy spoke again. The sound of the cellphone flipping shut signa
led the end of the conversation. “Well, Pierce, looks like it’s your lucky day. Fights are breaking out uptown, everything’s going to hell. We need to head over there now and do our thing.” I heard a deep sigh.

  “What about the woman?”

  “Leave her. Someone else will find her or maybe we’ll get lucky and stumble across her later.” They both chuckled, murmuring something to each other. The thought of there being more situations like this made my blood run cold. I was barely holding it together right now—this was pushing the limit.

  “Here, give me the keys. Anyone ever tell you that you drive like a psycho?” Their words faded away as they exited the alleyway. Moments after, an engine’s roar filled the air.

  After slowly counting to twenty, I gingerly began to stand. My muscles ached and I took my time stretching from side to side, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. I’d survived the encounter. I was in one piece.

  Something brushed against my leg, sending me crashing over the edge. I gave in to my terror and screamed. I didn’t stop with just one—I kept going, stopping only to draw breath before starting another.

  Chapter Eight

  I looked down, scanning the floor and found the new source of my terror. A huge, ugly, black rat, that looked big enough to eat me, was rooting around in the trash. It set its beady little red eyes on me as I stared at it, before looking away and ignoring me.

  “Quinn!” His name ripped from my throat. I slapped my hands over my mouth, attempting to stop the emotional eruption that boiled inside me from merely mentioning his name. I desperately tried to clamp down the rising pain, willing my mind to numb itself again, when my phone suddenly rang. Wanting it to be my grandmother, I answered quickly.

  “Grandma, thank goodness you called,” I stammered, my brain working faster than my mouth could move. “I really need your help. Quinn is lost, I’m all alone, and you know what’s going on.” I paused, waiting.

  There was silence on the other end and I pulled the phone away to look at the screen. Someone was there, but it wasn’t who I thought. I slowly placed it back to my ear.

  “But I’m not lost, Bri. Far from it, but if you’re worried, by all means tell me where you are and I’ll come for you.”

  The yearning to see him was overwhelming, but the sarcastic chill in his voice helped me maintain some semblance of common sense. I kept the phone still, waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “Come on, don’t ignore me. I know you’re there. Don’t you miss me yet?” His voice held a new edge I didn’t like—a coyness that grated on my nerves. As much as I wished it wasn’t there, I was grateful for the clarity it gave. This wasn’t the Quinn I knew.

  “So that’s the game you’re playing. Ignore me until I go away?” He chuckled and I closed my eyes, willing myself to think of how he used to be.

  “Well, seeing how you don’t want to talk, how about you listen?” He didn’t pause long enough for me to answer before he continued. “I’ve been thinking about what I’d love to do when I get my hands on you. All the delicious things I could do with this anger I’m feeling—the ways I can make you beg for mercy as I break you to my will. Want to hear some of them? You know me, I’m pretty inventive when I’m feeling inspired.”

  An ice-cold blanket wrapped itself around my heart as he graphically described his plans in a tone that told me he was aroused. The cadence had changed as well, now more of a croon as he spun his web of cruelty—one strand at a time.

  I never knew Quinn could think like this and despite my resolve to say nothing, I couldn’t help interrupting. “Stop . . . please, just stop. I don’t want to hear anymore. Why are you doing this? How can you even think these things let alone speak them?” Tears began rolling down my cheeks, my heart fracturing a little more. “You said you loved me, now you want to hurt me?”

  “Don’t talk to me about love. Not anymore.” He spat the word as if he couldn’t stand the taste of it.

  “Why not? It’s the truth. I don’t care what you say or even what you do. You can’t deny the fact that you love me.” I put heavy emphasis on those last three words, hoping they would somehow reach him. Regardless of the lies he was spouting, I had to believe he was still in there.

  “Yes, I still love you. It sits inside me like this cancerous presence, eating at me.” It hurt, listening to him describe his feelings as though they were poison. “But we’re getting away from the point. Where are you?” The strength behind his question rang through the phone.

  I willed myself silent, not wanting to tell him anything.

  “I’ll ask you one more time, where are you?” I shook my head, forgetting he couldn’t see me. “We can do this the easy way, or we’ll do it the hard way. But if you make me hunt you down, it’s really going to piss me off. Is that what you want?” The fact he was even asking after his promise earlier shredded whatever confidence I had.

  “You promised,” I whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

  “What was that, sweetheart? You need to speak up.”

  “You promised,” I said louder, my voice shaking.

  “Promises mean nothing. They’re easily broken. Everyone knows that.”

  “Are you even in there, Quinn?” I couldn’t help but ask my question. I was at the point where I needed something to hold onto—anything—a sign, an indication he was there and reachable.

  “What makes you think I’m going to answer that?” His mockery crushed me further.

  “I need to know. I have to know.” I was tired of this phone call and as soon as he answered, I was ending it.

  “Well, seeing as you have to know. Yes, I’m in here, but . . . tick . . . tock . . . you better hurry because the longer you take; the deeper the suggestion takes root. So do whatever it is you think you need to do, whatever vain attempt you’re planning to save me. Just remember . . . find your answers soon because I will come for you. I will hurt you, and you will scream.”

  The silence told me he was gone. With it, every protective barrier I’d erected tonight crashed with such force an intense hurt roared through me. Before I could blink I was storming across the alleyway, throwing and smashing anything I could put my hands on.

  My voice resonated deep within, rattling up from my stomach until it threatened to burst from me. My body vibrated, shaking from the concentrated anguish before it spewed from my mouth.

  I picked up an empty beer bottle and sent it hurtling through the air, smashing into jagged shards as it violently connected with the wall. I found another bottle and threw it too, the fire within me rampant. Running out of things to fling, I threw my head back and screamed, not caring anymore who could hear me. I almost wished someone would so when they found me, I could take my pain out on them.

  Over and over in my mind, Quinn’s words whipped until finally something broke and my anger gave way to gut-wrenching sobs. Unable to hold myself up, I crumbled and curled up into the fetal position as I continued to cry. Everything seemed hopeless in that moment—the task ahead insurmountable. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and disappear.

  I lay there; shedding endless tears and my body shuddered, reaching the point of exhaustion. My sobs gave way to stifled gasps as I struggled to regain control. My eyes burned as I slowly rubbed them.

  Soon the only noise was the occasional intake of a double breath and a strange calmness crept over me. Aware my meltdown was over, I gathered what little strength I had and pulled myself back into the doorway where I’d previously hid.

  I needed to sleep, my mind and body ready to shut down. My problems would still be here when I woke. I vaguely prayed no one would find me, and with one last depleted sigh, I gave into the darkness and slept.

  Chapter Nine

  Awareness came slowly, starting with numbness from being on the cold, hard, concrete.. Pins and needles caused me to wince, the sharp stabs painful, but sleep still struggled to hold me in its grip. I lay a little longer, not wanting to move and began to evaluate the situation.

&nbs
p; I listened, not knowing what to expect when I finally opened my eyes. The alleyway was quiet with early dawn highlighting the sky above. The faint sound of vehicles driving through the streets was the first noise I identified, and I wondered who could be up so early in the morning—especially considering the equivalent of Hell that had been released hours earlier.

  Those cars were filled with people—potentially violent people and I frowned. Moving about the city worried me because it felt like I was trying to navigate the front lines during a war. The charm had spread rapidly and there was no way of knowing how widespread it had become. Had everyone converted, or were there some like me who had been able to resist it somehow? These were questions I needed answers for.

  It was necessary to scope out the street and see how bad things had become. Fear sent a butterfly sensation fluttering in my stomach just thinking about what I might find. I also had to determine what my options were, and lying on the cold ground wasn’t one of them.

  I slowly moved, encouraging the circulation back into my legs so I could sit without pain. I started a mental check on the rest of my body—testing for any other ailments and aches. Sometime during my exhausted sleep, I had tucked my arm underneath my head to serve as a pillow and it still tingled. I rubbed it as I cautiously sat up and waited for the spinning in my head to stop.

  My mind raced, quickly becoming overloaded as a million thoughts vied for my attention. Taking a deep breath, I tried focusing on each one separately and after a great effort, they slowly trickled down to one. The most pressing concern I had was figuring out what was happening with Quinn—the need to help him consumed me.

  A dozen theories demanded my attention, but I knew straight away they weren’t the solution. What I needed were answers and the only place I knew I could find them was with my grandmother.

  I dug into my pocket for my phone and when my fingers came back empty, a few quick pats confirmed I didn’t have it. Standing up, I staggered, trying to catch my balance, and I scanned the nearby ground—the remains of shattered bottles a reminder of my meltdown.