Page 127 of Hellbound

Entries about her.

Senka is everything I should avoid—reckless, deceptive, and completely without principle. She is a poison, and yet I’m willingly consuming it. She’s hiding something, and I need to figure it out. But I’m failing. And I can’t stop.

Blood formed beneath her canine, and she swiped her tongue across it.

This was delicious. She could ruin him if she wanted to. And gods, she was throbbing with the desire to.

She would make him come to her willingly. Laid bare for her to do whatever she pleased.

Fuck. Torture. Kill.

Carefully, gently, she kissed the blank parchment beneath that last journal entry. The dried-blood color of her rouge smeared onto the page.

Her skin smelled like him now.

No. Like them.

She finished in the tub and pulled his tunic over her head—the collar slipping off her shoulder and linen sticking to her curves as she padded back into his bedroom with wet feet.

Clink.

A clatter of metal sounded as she replaced his journal into the hidden compartment.

Her brow furrowed, fingers digging deeper. They closed around a thin coin of sorts and a loose sheaf of paper.

The blue-gray metal of a wayfinder coin gleamed dully in the strip of light from the curtains. Ksenia’s hand clutched tightly around it.

How many children had Bohdan caught in the Vein? What of the four children she had last ushered into its depths? She’d been a fool to think they would all make it.

She turned her attention to the sheaf of paper, turning it over in her hands. Perfectly blank.

Her heart stilled.

No. No.

Her trembling hands jammed into her dress pockets for a spare match, and she hurried to strike it against the stone wall.

She lit the wax taper by his bedside till a weak flickering flame took hold.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she shakily held the paper over the flame. Her hand was clammy as she passed the coin over the warmed parchment.

Her stomach dropped as shimmering ink revealed itself.

Shepherd,

Twelve children are awaiting safe passage at the safe house near the Brannfels warehouse docks.

—North

The missive slipped from her shaking fingers, catching the flame as it fell.

Ksenia’s hand darted forward with a curse, quickly stamping out the flame with her hands, but the damage was done.

The corner had become curled and charred.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

This was much more dire than she could’ve ever anticipated.