Marked for Vengeance Read Online Free

door handle to the gym and paused. For the first time ever, all
she wanted to do was go home and rest, thanks to the tiresome affects of her
long, arduous work week.  Her four inch heels screeched on the floor as she
turned, and she walked as briskly as she could in them to her car.
    When she opened
the car door, invisible waves bellowed from inside, distorting the air in front
of her as though she had opened an oven door. Ugh! She leaned into the
car to roll the windows down and allow the muggy Georgia heat to escape. After
it was bearable, she slung her bags inside and went on her way.
    Ten blocks and
numerous pedestrians later, she parked her car in the small parking lot beside
the three-story brick complex that she had lived in for the past three years, retrieved
her bags, and headed through the white, wooden entry door. She climbed the
stairs to the top floor, pulled out her keys, and entered her modest one
bedroom apartment – number 301.
    Kicking off her
shoes just inside the door, she dumped her bags onto the dark hardwood floors
that shone from the thick coat of polished lacquer. As she pattered down the
short hallway to the bathroom, she stripped off her work clothes, leaving a
trail of pooled fabric. She turned the nozzle to let the hot water steam, and
as she waited, craned her neck over her shoulder to look in the mirror at her
back. The scar resembling a three-peaked Celtic knot surrounded by a circle on
her left shoulder blade had faintly tingled ever since their encounter with the
strange man in the elevator. Her nose crinkled as she rubbed the raised, fleshy
symbol with her fingertips. S o unusual, it’s never done that before .
    Pushing the
uncomfortable memories of when she was branded with it from her mind, she
stepped into the ceramic tiled shower.
    After washing,
she twisted her wet hair into a towel and slipped on a pair of baggy, grey
fleece pants and a white tee . She strolled to the kitchen and stared
into the refrigerator she had adorned with pictures of her and Benjamin, and
pulled a Tupperware container of leftover pasta from the bottom shelf. While
the container warmed atop the spinning glass plate, she eyed the wine rack
beside the fridge and bit her bottom lip. It didn’t take long for her
contemplation to turn into resolve, and she snatched the red merlot. With the
wine bottle and glass in hand, she hurried to the living room and sank onto the
leather couch to get a head start on the wine before her pasta was ready.
    The TV flickered
on, and she scrolled through the scheduled programs for the night. One for
Eighteenth-Century England was slated to come on the History Channel at nine
o’clock. Occasionally, they had something on that particularly interested her,
and this was one of them. For now, she would settle for a reality competition
of some kind.
    The microwave’s
shrill, uniform beeps alerted her that the meal inside was properly heated, so
she grabbed her steaming dinner and nestled into a chair at her high-top dining
table with her glass of wine. As she twirled the pasta around the prongs of her
fork, her phone chimed. A text from Jessica awaited her in the inbox. Hey, Alyx!
Ran into Cindra at the store and she said you guys were busy this weekend. We
should try to get together in a few weeks. Miss you guys!
    Alyx grinned and
messaged back. S ounds good. We’ll get together soon! Miss you too.
    Jessica worked
at Bachman and Yorkshire until two months ago when she went into business for
herself as a cake decorator. On occasion, she would send cupcakes and other
treats to the office, such as petitfors or cake pops to remind them she still
existed. Regretfully, Alyx’s schedule had been a little busier on the weekends,
and that didn’t allow for a ton of extra friend activities.
    Remembering
their last ‘girl’s night out’, Alyx scrolled through the pictures on her phone of
them singing “Pour Some Sugar on Me” at a Korean karaoke bar during the summer.
Her cheek rested