Pretty When She Kills Read Online Free PDF

swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I might as well get up. I won’t sleep until I hear from her.”
    “She’s fine,” Sergio assured his grandmother.
    Innocente tried not to let tears spring into her eyes. She knew Sergio was wrong. Amaliya was not fine. She felt it to the marrow of her bones.
     
     

 
     
    Chapter 3
     
    Amaliya’s face pulsed in pain and her left arm felt broken. The door was lodged into her side and her crushed ribs were in agony. Blood streamed down her face as she attempted to free herself from the seatbelt digging into her torso. White powder filled the air and burned her nostrils. Blinking the blood from her eyes, she glanced at Cian. The driver’s side window was shattered from the impact of his head striking the glass and blood covered his face.
    “Get ready,” he ordered, his voice ragged as he pulled his seatbelt off.
    Amaliya’s veins burned as she willed herself to heal. The buckle finally popped free and she slid out of the seatbelt. Gasping at the pain, she dragged herself out of the car through the broken windshield. Bits of glass pressed into her palms as she crawled onto the buckled hood of the car.
    The first thing she noticed was the silence. The sounds of the city were gone. Not even the whistling of the wind slipping through the branches of the trees was audible. Twisting around on her hip, she saw the SUV was crumpled against a utility pole. Two men were slowly stirring inside. They appeared as stunned as Amaliya and Cian.
    What concerned her more than the men in the SUV was the tiny Hispanic girl standing under a street light with both arms lifted upwards. A miasma of purple and black smoke wound around her hands like writhing serpents. Dressed in jeans and a tank top, the girl looked like any other teenager, but the power pulsing out of her was terrifying. Her dark eyes watched Amaliya from beneath her straight bangs and her hair was gathered into two small buns on either side of her head. Her full lips were turned up in a cruel smile.
    Cian pulled himself through his broken window.
    “It’s an-”
    His body jerked and fell out of sight as he was peppered with bullets.
    Amaliya slid off the hood and crouched alongside the car, hiding from the gunman. “Cian!”
    “Stay down!” With surprising speed, he crawled around the car to join her. His flesh expelled the bullets, the tiny bits of metal clinking as they fell to the street. “I’m here. Fuck, silver. Burns like a bitch.”
    “Come out and play,” the girl’s voice called out and she giggled.
    “They brought a witch. Fuck.” Cian shook his head, aggravated. He handed Amaliya a dagger. “Strike to kill. No mercy.” He was already weakened from healing himself from the accident and now even weaker after healing from the silver bullets. Which was probably exactly what their attackers wanted.
    “Why isn’t there any sound?” Amaliya asked, fear strangling her throat.
    “Magic. She has us in a bubble. It will keep all the humans away from here, which is a good thing. They don’t need to witness what is about to happen.”
    “Which is?” Amaliya asked fearfully.
    “Us killing them.”
    The crumpled car rose into the air before being tossed up the street. Amaliya cried out in surprise. A slim Hispanic man in jeans, a leather jacket and cowboy boots grinned as he raised his weapon and aimed. Cian leaped to his feet and ducked away from the barrage of gunfire aimed at him. Scrambling to follow, Amaliya grunted as a massive form erupted from the shadows and tackled her to the ground. The big man straddled her, pinning her to the asphalt.
    A meaty fist hit her twice before she managed to grab the thick wrist of her assailant. The big beefy face of one of Santo’s men glared down at her. She recognized him from her captivity months before. He was wearing another ugly yellow shirt and his shaved head gleamed in the light from the streetlamp. This was the same asshole who had beat the living hell out of