Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 16

The Fix Or Fire.

Sage

His blood hit the floor in thick, syrupy drips, soaking into the cheap carpet like spilled wine. My knuckles were raw from the last punch, my blade slick with his blood, I’d tied him to the rusted radiator with zip ties and wire, and his shoulder was already dislocated from the way he thrashed when I carved into his thigh. Still, he said nothing. Not a fucking word. His eyes were wild with pain, but there was something colder beneath it, pride, maybe. Or fear of someone bigger than me. That made my stomach twist. I was a nightmare in flesh, a trained killer, a walking fucking ghost and this asshole was still more afraid of someone else. Unacceptable.

“You’ve got five seconds to start making sounds that mean something,” I growled, dragging the blade slowly across his collarbone, just deep enough to sting. You know how many nerves are in the shoulder? I can make your arm twitch like a fucking puppet.”

He spat blood at me, grinning with cracked teeth. “Fuck you.”

I kicked him in the gut so hard he heaved. “Wrong answer.”

1 yanked his head back by his hair, pressing the blade beneath his jaw, just under the bone. “You’re already dead. You know that, right? This is just… bonus time. The pain? That’s the interest.”

Still, he stayed quiet. Fine. I didn’t need words. I could carve them out of him. I moved to the table where I’d laid out my tools, needle-nose pliers, piano wire, salt. Yakov always said pain is a language; if they’re not speaking, you’re not fluent enough. So I got fluent. I started with the pinky on his left hand. Crushed the knuckle with the pliers. Ripped the nail out next. Slowly. No scream. No sobbing. Just clenched teeth and shaking limbs. Who the hell was this guy?

I leaned in, whispering, “They’ll forget you, you know. Whoever you’re protecting. They’ll move on. Replace you. That loyalty you’re bleeding for? It’s not mutual.”

That got him. His jaw twitched. A flicker of doubt. I seized it.

“Tell me who hired you,” I said, pressing the blade just above his knee, and I’ll make it quick. I swear on my code.”

“Fuck. Your. Code.”

His voice was hoarse, weak. But still defiant. I stared at him, then stepped back. My hands were trembling, not from fear, but fury. Exhaustion. Frustration. He was just a pawn. A well-trained, well-paid pawn. He didn’t even know the name of the player moving the pieces. Or if he did, he’d rather die than give it to me..and he would. I pressed the tip of the blade to the side of his neck, just at the artery. “Last chance.” He looked me dead in the eyes, blood leaking from his mouth.

“I hope they slit your throat while you sleep,” he rasped.

So I did it. Quick. Clean. Merciful, in comparison to what I could have done. But it didn’t feel like a win. It felt like a warning. I stood there, covered in blood, the silence of the shitty motel room screaming in my ears. My mark was dead. I had nothing. No answers. No names. But whoever had sent him… they were watching. And they knew I was close. Too close. I wiped my blade on his shirt and grabbed my bag, snatching the burner from the floor. I had to move. Had to warn Conner again. I didn’t know how many more of these bastards were coming, but I knew one thing: The burn list wasn’t just real, it was active. And whoever was lighting the match? They wanted us both reduced to ash. I shoved my shit into the car, barely slamming the trunk before peeling out onto the back road. My hands were still sticky with blood, my pulse thunderous in my ears. I didn’t have time to rest, to breathe. I had to move, back home. Back

to him.

To Conner. I hit the highway like a bat out of hell and threw my phone on speaker. My fingers were shaking as I scrolled to her name. Naomi. She answered on the first ring, but didn’t say a word. No hello. No questions. “Nai…” I breathed out. “I know,” she said quietly. Calmly. Like she’d been waiting for this call. “And you know…”.

“I won’t come back until it’s settled.” My voice was harder now, colder. I had to be.

A beat of silence passed before she finally said, “Be safe.”

“You too.”

1/2

The rix urile.

We hung up. That was our thing. Short. Sharp. Final. No tears. No asking for details we didn’t want to know. Naomi had pulled me out of more than one grave, but this? Even she knew I had to crawl through this one alone because I had a mark on me now and in this world, when you’re marked, there are only two outcomes: you fix it, or you fucking die. I gritted my teeth and hit the gas harder. I was running out of time, and Conner… I had dragged him into this mess with me. He didn’t even know it yet, not fully. But I’d seen the file. He was on the list now too. He’d be hunted. Unless I did something drastic. I made the next call. One I didn’t want to make, but had to. Ari. She was the only one with a direct line to him. To Yakov. She picked up halfway through the first

ring.

“Is it done?” she asked, skipping the pleasantries.

“Yes,” I replied through clenched teeth. “But there was an issue. Of sorts…”

There was a rustle, like she was flicking through papers or brushing off lint. Her tone didn’t change. Still that dull, clipped indifference.

“So fix it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“You don’t try, Specter. You do.” She practically spat the name.

I bit the inside of my cheek. I hated when she used that name. When they all did. Specter. As if I was still just a tool in Yakov’s belt. A ghost on a leash.

“I’m being hunted,” I snapped. “Someone put me on a burn list. I don’t know who yet, but they’ve got eyes on me.”

That earned a pause.

“Fix it. Fast.”

The line went dead.

I threw the phone onto the passenger seat and let out a breath that rattled my ribs. I could feel the walls closing in. Too many moving parts. Too many players in a game I wasn’t sure I was winning anymore. Yakov had trained me to be lethal. Invisible. Untouchable. But even ghosts leave footprints when they bleed and I was bleeding. Bad.

DOCODILE