Twenty-Seven

Kian

"Did you get the other bullet out? Here, use this," he offered, producing a pocketknife.

I tried digging it out, but it refused to budge. Blood was spewing from the hole now that I'd made it worse. My fingertips burned as they came into contact with the silver. I grunted through it, enjoying the pain like the sadistic bastard that I'd become.

"Got it," I announced, holding it up to see for myself.

It was strange how nothing seemed to hurt me anymore. The pain was as addictive as crack was to an addict. I got some freaky sort of kick out of it. Getting shot felt like a bee sting, and silver bullets were supposed to burn like a bitch, which was weird because it wasn't all that bad. It just smarted enough to tingle. I tossed the bullet onto the ground and watched it bounce across the asphalt. Maybe my nerves were fucked from all the fighting, or maybe I was just plain wrong.

"You're meant to have my back," I growled at Claw, turning from him to mutter, "Useless son of a bitch." I gr