The screen of James's phone flickered again, a second message from Hazel appearing like a death warrant: "It's better you get here now."
"Hey! Why did you run like that? What's going on with you?" Ashley demanded, catching up to him in the parking lot, her face flushed from the chase.
"Ugh, fuck! How crazy is that bitch?" James roared, his voice cracking with a mixture of terror and disbelief.
"Huh? Who?"
"God damn it, tell me! How crazy is she?" he shouted, spinning around to face Ashley.
Ashley stepped back, startled. "What did she do?"
"She fucking caused my mother's accident!" James's eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving.
"That crazy demon... I need to report this to the police right now!" Ashley reached for her phone, but James grabbed her wrist.
"No, don't!"
"Why?"
"Just don't... you trust me, right?" James pleaded, his grip desperate.
"Yes, I do, but she is doing too much, James!" Ashley cried.
"I need to go to her now," James said, turning toward his car. "I have to stop her."
Ashley stepped in front of him, putting her hands on his face to force him to look at her. "Hey... didn't you say she caused the accident? Why are you going to her and not your mother? Go to the injured person! She's already done her worst; she won't do more tonight. You don't have to be scared. Your mother needs you right now."
James wavered, his mind a chaotic mess of fear and duty. "You're right... but—"
"If she says anything later, just tell her your mother was dying. She's a human, she'll understand—or at least she can't argue with that," Ashley urged.
"Okay," James breathed. He stormed into his car and peeled out of the parking lot, the tires Screaming against the asphalt.
As the taillights vanished, Ashley's concerned expression vanished instantly. She pulled out her phone and dialed Hazel's number, a cold, sharp smirk pulling at her lips.
"Hey, bastard," Ashley said the moment Hazel picked up. "I was wondering why you wanted him to come to you so badly. Well, you won't see him today. I have a surprise for you. Guess who has the upper hand now? Me. He's heading to the hospital because I told him to. Are you so sad because you can't control him anymore? I have the remote now—"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Hazel hung up without a word. Ashley laughed, pocketing her phone. "Crazy bastard. She must be pissed."
Across town, Hazel's face was like carved ice. She didn't scream; she didn't throw her phone. She simply sent a file to James.
James was halfway to the hospital when his phone buzzed. He glanced down and felt his heart stop. It was a live video feed. In the grainy footage, a hitman sat in a darkened building across from the hospital. The camera zoomed in, showing a red laser sight dancing across the forehead of the woman lying in the hospital bed—his mother.
Another message popped up: "Now I need you to do something for me. Turn your car around and meet me right now. Don't act stupid. I'll give you 10 minutes. All it takes is one bullet. One... fucking... bullet."
James's world blurred. He didn't see the car in front of him. He slammed on the brakes, turning the wheel violently to pull a U-turn. The car behind him couldn't stop in time.
CRASH.
The impact sent James's head into the steering wheel. Blood began to pour from a gash on his forehead, blurring his vision. Dazed, he stumbled out of the wreckage.
"Are you okay?" someone shouted from the sidewalk, but James didn't hear them. He threw himself into a passing taxi, his voice a guttural growl. "Drive. Fast. I'll pay you triple."
"Sir, you're bleeding, you should go to the hospital—"
"Mind your fucking business and DRIVE!" James screamed.
The clock was ticking. 60 seconds. James jumped out of the taxi blocks away to avoid traffic, running with every ounce of strength left in his lungs. His vision was swimming, his blood dripping onto the pavement.
Inside her apartment, Hazel stood by the window, staring at her watch. She opened a message to the hitman, her thumb hovering over the 'Send' button.
"10... 9... 8..." she whispered. "7... 6... 5..."
James reached the door, his lungs burning like fire.
"4... 3... 2..."
The door burst open. James fell into the room, collapsing onto his hands and knees, gasping for air as blood pooled on the floor beneath his head.
Hazel looked down at him, her face devoid of pity. "1. You made it. That's wonderful.
James was gasping for air, the metallic tang of his own blood filling his mouth. Hazel stood over him, a predator admiring her prey, before she crouched down and tilted his chin up with one cold finger.
"What's this?" she purred, her voice disturbingly soft. "It's not even Valentine's yet, but your white clothes are turning so beautifully red. Oh... it's blood."
"Have you lost your goddamn mind?" James choked out, his voice cracking. "How can you... how can you do that?"
"Do what?"
"You tried to fucking kill my mother!"
Hazel's smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "But I didn't, did I? Once again, James, you saved her life. You know I wasn't going to kill her... as long as you obeyed."
"Psycho," James spat, the word dripping with loathing.
"Yes, I am," she whispered. "You don't know how far I can go, do you? If you had lost count by a single second, I would have given the order to end her life. Your tardiness almost cost a soul."
James gripped her wrist, his hand shaking. "And if you kill her, you'll be in trouble. Big trouble. You'd be sentenced to death because I would have no reason left to put up with this bullshit! I'd burn everything down just to see you hang!"
Hazel threw her head back and let out a wild, jagged laugh that echoed off the walls. "Yes... if it reached that level, it would be so interesting. All of this would end so quickly, wouldn't it? A beautiful, bloody finale." Her face suddenly went still, her eyes boring into his. "But she isn't even your biological mother. Looking at you... you almost died today for a woman who doesn't share your DNA. They say blood is stronger than anything. What should I call yours? Loyal? Or just pathetic?"
"It's me you want," James growled, his head swimming. "Leave her out of it."
Hazel moved closer, her face inches from his. Without warning, she leaned in and licked the trail of blood running down his temple. James froze, a primal shiver of horror racing down his spine.
"So tasty," she murmured, tasting the copper on her lips. "I love it when you bleed."
But as she pulled back, her gaze dropped to the collar of his shirt. Her eyes locked onto the dark, mottled mark on his skin the hickey Ashley had left in the club's private room.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The air felt like it was being sucked out of the space. Hazel's pupils seemed to dilate until they turned a dark, bruised red, her expression flattening into something void of humanity. It wasn't just anger; it was a killer's focus.
She lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back so hard his neck strained. James's eyes met hers, and he saw the dark red void in her stare. He shivered, the cold realization hitting him that he had just crossed a line he didn't know existed.
"Why do you have a hickey?" she demanded, her voice a low, vibrating growl that promised violence. "Answer me."