Edge of Anarchy (Edge of Collapse, #4)

by Kyla Stone

He was only eight years old, but Milo had already seen horrible things and lived through a lifetime of terrors.

Desoto’s tactics were brutal but effective.

So him choking your kid is effective? Yeah, maybe the little boy won't try to fight a psycho but umm said psycho would have more than a knot in his throat when I was done with him.

Noah didn’t agree with them, but what was done was done.

Milo, you watched two people die yesterday.”

That's not all that happened… did they not tell him that idiot choked him?

“That you can’t stay safe from everything. That trying to do that ends up being worse in the end. That living your life means taking some risks. That you just have to be smart about it, not stupid like most people. It’s like a trampoline. No, a balancing act. Like in the circus.”

Because what's wrong with what she said? She is the only one being honest with him.

Until then, I’m the one in charge.

Power getting to his head.

He cared about Quinn, but she was still a kid, idealistic and naïve.

Whoooo is naive? You got the wrong one. Noah take several seats.

In the real world, you had to make concessions and compromises. Sometimes, you even had to do things that made you dislike yourself.

Wow. Yeah, no. You idiot.

Hannah wanted to give in to him, to fling the door open and send him out into the night to help Liam. But she didn’t.

Do not open the door for anyone but me. Keep Ghost here to protect you and Charlotte.

He’d left over an ...

Every second that Liam was gone stretched her nerves tighter and tighter.

She fought the fear, the dread. For eight days, she’d believed Pike was dead. Now, like some sort of demon, he’d returned from the grave. A man with no soul. A man who represented evil in its purest form.

Maybe that force was sustaining him, bequeathing him with otherworldly powers no mere mortal could possess.

Pike was a man. Just a man. He could be killed. He would be killed.

Love for the infant in her arms tightened her chest. She had been so afraid she wouldn’t be able to love her, that she would feel the same loathing and revulsion for the child as she did for the monster responsible for creating her, who shared her genes.

She looked like Hannah. She looked like a baby: innocent and blameless. Pike had no part in this. Her daughter was hers and hers alone.

For all that Hannah had endured and would endure, this burden was not one of them. She loved her daughter, wholly and completely, and without reservation.

It wasn’t something she’d ever wanted to do—to hold a knife, to wield a gun.

It was necessary. She would do what she had to do.

If anyone were to glance into the darkened room, they would see nothing unusual. Nothing out of place. They wouldn’t notice the precious infant tucked inside the dresser.

It was up to Hannah to protect herself and her child. Hannah and Ghost.

“I love you, sweet girl,” she whispered. “Sleep, and don’t wake up until it is safe. Whatever you do, don’t wake up.”

He’d been shot twice, but he was still going.

Sheer will power kept him on his feet.

Naaah. That's the devil in him.

Less than a minute and he was in. In better weather conditions, he had gotten inside a garage in under ten seconds.

The gunshot wounds and the exhausting trek through deep snow had depleted his energy more than he wished to admit.

At the last second, the creature darted to the side. The spade of the shovel missed its skull and struck its burly shoulder instead.

The dog fell sideways into the frame of the doorway. It was on its feet faster than Pike thought possible. It gave a ferocious growl, black jowls peeling back to reveal sharp white teeth.

The enormous dog filled the doorway, all gleaming fangs and snarling fury. A memory slashed through him—the library, the beast looming over him, savagely snapping at his throat.

Pike stumbled backward. He whirl...

Oh you ain't nothing but a punk.

Every step that brought her closer to Pike felt like treachery. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, to hide.

Hannah couldn’t move.

Don't you lose it now. You got a baby to protect. Start blasting. Don't give him a chance.

“It’s been far too long, don’t you think?”

Why he still talking?!

She’d forgotten words. Forgotten how to speak. Forgotten everything but the fear.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that? We both remember what happened last time. It’s useless with that crippled hand of yours. Why don’t you put it down? It’s useless to...

“I’m not a mouse,” Hannah said. She squeezed the trigger.

Pike stumbled backward.

She didn’t know if she’d hit him. She squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession. The gun jerked, the blasts slamming into her ears. She took a step forward. Fired. Then another step. Fired again.

She had no idea if she was shooting where she was aiming. Her heart beat frenzied wings against her ribs. Adrenaline shot through her. It was h...

She fired again as he turned and darted deeper into the living room. She wouldn’t let him get away. Not again. On shaking legs, she followed him.

Panic seized her. She squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times. Boom! Boom! Boom! Pike grunted a curse and dove for the floor. She aimed low and fired. The Ruger clicked. The chamber was empty.

The round had skimmed him. Enough to hurt, but not enough to do serious damage.

Reflexively, she pulled the trigger again. Click.

Pike looked at her. He still held the knife in his hand. Grimacing, in pain, but with a dark light flashing in his eyes. “This is the part where you run.”

She spun and stumbled for the stairs behind her. Her thoughts a blur. Panic turning her brain to mush.

Noooo. Why would you run upstairs where you're even more trapped??? Why?

She had to keep Pike away from it, away from her daughter.

But you're leading him even closer to her. Ugh!!!

Too late for the scissors. Too late for anything. Hannah rose to her feet. Her heart galloped inside her chest. She seized the can of hairspray from the counter, spun as she raised it, and depressed the nozzle. She sprayed it directly into his eyes.

He screamed in agony. She barreled past him. She shot out of the bathroom, racing through the master bedroom, toward the hallway. Fear drove her. She wasn’t thinking, wasn’t planning. She was a fleeing animal, nothing but panic and instinct.

She fumbled for the doorknob and jerked open the door. She threw herself through the doorway, took a step, and fell into empty space.