There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

A deathly clarity settles over me.
This is it. This is the end.
Whatever happens, I won’t give in. If he kills me, I’m going to take some
pieces of Shaw with me.
I slip out of my heavy coat, letting it fall behind me. Allowing the soft flakes
of snow to settle in my hair and on my bare shoulders. Feeling their cool kiss
one last time.
“You tried to murder me before,” I tell Shaw. “As a killer and an artist …
you’re mediocre.”
Shaw’s upper lip twists from a grin into a snarl. His teeth clench so hard I can
almost hear them cracking, and his fists shake. With a howl, he charges down
the alley.
He’s running right at me, getting bigger and bigger, until his shoulders almost
touch both walls.
He’s a wrecking ball swinging right at me. There’s nowhere to run.
Out of a passageway in the dark glass, Cole barrels into Shaw, diving at his
legs, sending them both tumbling end over end, until they slam into the
opposite wall.
There is no strategy. There is no plan.
Cole is already gasping and sweating and bleeding everywhere before the
fight has even begun. He grapples with Shaw, no element of surprise on his
side. From the second they make contact, it’s a melee of madness: desperate,
bloody, and brutal.
The men fight and claw, biting, punching, and kicking, rolling over and over
in the snow. The ground becomes a morass of churned-up mud and bloody
slush.
This is like no fight I’ve ever seen, wildly hectic, viciously brutal. I can
hardly tell one man from another as they punch at each other’s throats and
gouge at each other’s eyes. This is how predators fight: not to win, but to kill.