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It’s not a question, but I nod all the same. “As soon as the nuptials were complete—once he was a real Hellfyre—he took to recruiting every piece of gutter trash in the city to do his bidding. Thus, the mighty Hellfyre Club was born. A year later, so was I, though it wasn’t until my mother died that he started… training me.”
“And your… scars?”
A puff of air escapes my lips. “Yes. He’s the reason for those as well.”
“Why?”
I freeze, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “You should get some sleep, flower.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t push. I guess I gave her enough information for her to drop the issue. For now. Throwing a leg over my waist, she nestles into the crook of my neck, the sensation of her wiggling against me almost too much to bear.
A few minutes pass before the steady rise and fall of her chest lets me know she’s asleep. I gaze down at my perfect little flower, and overwhelming emotion cresting in my veins.
“I love you, Lillith,” I whisper, so low I’m not sure if any sound escaped at all. “I love you.”
Her lips twitch, but thankfully, she doesn’t wake, doesn’t hear the words that have been swirling in my mind since the day I saw her in the hospital. She quivers with a dream, and I hold her tighter against my side, brushing her hair back with the lightest touch.
I wonder if this is just like the others or if she will finally remember.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
LILLITH
Red. Everything is red. My arms, my face, my parents' bodies lying beneath me. It's all red, red, red. My knees scream as the gravel digs into my skin, but I barely register the pain. It's so faint—barely a whisper as something clicks behind me. I squeeze my eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable moment I wake up screaming in my bed, but it never comes. I force my eyes open, helpless to do anything but stare at my parents’ lifeless faces.
"I'm going to fucking enjoy this, brat."
What is this? I reach down, taking my mother's blouse between my fingers. The fabric is still warm, drenched in the slick red fluid gushing from the hole between her shoulder blades.
Am I still dreaming?
"Say goodbye."
Bang!
I wait for the pain that comes with being shot to death, but it never arrives. Deaf to the powerful ringing in my ears, I jerk my head up. A teenage boy crouches over me, his face contorted as if in an immense amount of pain. His breathing is ragged, wet-sounding, and it's only when I tear my eyes from his handsome face do I notice the gushing wound to the right of his heart.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"
The boy coughs, splattering droplets of warm red across my face. He cracks an eye open, an unspoken apology swirling in his silver iris. Eyes like the bad man's, but different. Beautiful.
The bad man's hand grips the boy's shoulder, attempting to pull him off me. "What the fuck is wrong with you, boy? Do you want me to kill your worthless ass too?"
The boy looks deep into my eyes, holding strong against the bad man's grip. Using his last bit of breath, his mouth opens with a command. It's too soft for me to hear, but I still make it out from the way his lips move.
“Run, little flower. Run.”
My body moves before I know what I’m doing. I tear across the pavement, numb to the tears spilling down my cheeks.
“I should fucking kill you! Useless fucking boy!” The sound of fists hitting flesh makes its way to my ears, and though it feels like I’m going to be sick, I never stop. My mind is breaking, tearing in half, desperate to forget what happened in that alleyway.
I run until my legs give out, then I run some more. I don’t know how I get to the police station. I have no idea if someone found me or if I made it there on my own.
The only thing I do know is when they ask me if the bad man worked alone, I lie. The police officer with the beer gut and shiny gold badge cocks his head, placing his hands on his hips like he knows I’m lying.
“You’re sure? There was no one else?”
“No one,” I whisper, the boy with the silver eye flashing briefly in my mind. “No one.”
