Weight (Wyatt POV)

My hands began to tremble as the weight of what I had just done hit me like a ton of bricks. I looked down at the fresh glistening of blood that coated my hand, wiping it roughly down the front of my shirt.

With Vincent, I had to kill him. He'd attacked me and if I didn't fight back; He would have killed me. But today.... I killed a man in cold blood. There was no question on whether he deserved it; He absofuckinglutely did... but it makes me feel dirtied. Stained with the reality that I was now a murderer.

I’m not sure how long I remained sitting there in shock. The sound of a phone ringing loudly brought me back to reality.

I stood, stepping over Abe’s dead body, and rushed down the stairwell. As I exited the door at the bottom, I nearly ran into someone.

The man was wearing a bright yellow vest that said security. Shit.

His eyes looked me up and down momentarily before he scrambled for the gun in his waistband. I lunged forward, punching him hard enough to knock him out