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My head spins as my body reforms, attempting to piece together everything that just happened. My mind feels numb, unable to piece together all the emotions filling my chest, threatening to explode within me.
Titus still holds me close to him, tucking me against his chest as though he actually cares. As soon as my body takes shape, I push out of his hold. Intent on putting some distance between us.
My legs struggle to hold my weight as another set of figures appears beside us. Helene appears, her hands abruptly letting go of Domenic’s and Abigail’s as soon as they take form in the room. Her fingers run to smooth out her long, sleek black hair, as though that’s the most important thing right now. Domenic stumbles away from her, still in shock from what just happened. Abigail collapses to her knees, still cradling her arm to her chest as though her sobs will bring the appendage back.
“I’ll fucking kill you,” I seethe, my voice coming out in a hoarse screech as I launch myself towards Helene. I don’t care that my body barely holds me up. My last shreds of adrenaline pumps through my body and launches me forward. I don’t care that I don’t have my powers anymore. I would choke the life out of her, see that light dim into blackness just as I’d watched Nelle’s do just moments before.
I will get my vengeance against the conniving god, and she will die by my hand, even if I must take my last breath to do so. I don’t necessarily want to die—thoughts of my guys float through my mind, and I don’t want to leave them alone, not when we just found each other, not after seeing how affected they were after I left the last time. I couldn’t let them feel the loss I’m suffering through for Nelle right now.
I let my rage take hold of me, though, clinging to it like a lifeline. Otherwise, soul-crushing despair will take its place. I won’t let myself break down any more than I already have in front of these snakes. I let that fire claim me, burning through my veins, wishing it was my fire from the depths of my magic that I was calling forth.
Titus’ arms catches me around my middle a few feet from Helene, my arms reach out as though I can still touch her, my fingers grasping around thin air as I settle on ripping those cold, calculating eyes out of their sockets.
“Leave, Helene, now,” Titus growls, easily keeping me at bay. I wish I could pull on my powers and funnel more strength into my body to break out of his hold.
“But Titus,” Helene gasps, her voice pleading. I’m unsure if it’s out of remorse or if it’s merely a ruse, but I honestly couldn’t care less. She doesn’t bother to meet my gaze, only looking at Titus.
Just as I’d gotten back at Abigail, I will repay Helene for her treachery. I fight against his hold, using every ounce of strength I can muster to wriggle out of his hold, but his hands only band tighter around me. I slump against his hold, my energy completely drained at this point.
“The only reason you’re here right now is because of my father. He would kill me if I ruined this alliance between the two of you. But if you don’t leave now, I’ll have no choice but to enact the vengeance she’s so desperately calling for.” Titus says through gritted teeth, leashing himself just as much as he’s holding me back right now.
Her brows crease, but she doesn’t argue, merely stomping off in the other direction, leaving Domenic and Abigail behind. Domenic gives me a pained look. He looks as though he’s about to say something, but I bare my teeth in response. I haven’t forgotten the part he played in Nelle’s death. He glances down but doesn’t say a word. Nothing he could say right now would make anything better.
He hurriedly scoops Abigail up and follows after his aunt. Good riddance. I’m going to come up with a plan for both of them, but for now, I need to figure out the mess I’m in. I can fall apart once I’m alone. Now, I desperately hold on to the last vestiges of consciousness, fighting off the dark shadows that lurk at the edges of my vision.
A shiver of fear slithers up my spine, chilling me to my core as I finally realize where I am. I take in the dark chamber, orbs of light flicker along the stone walls, but they aren’t as bright as I’m used to—no, they have a dark tinge to them as though shadows lurk in their depth, swirling and blocking out the direct light.
The stone is intricately carved, arches lining the chamber, with a massive wooden door on one side. This must be a front entryway. There’s a long hallway to the side where Helene stalked off to. The floor changes from the etched stone to a burgundy carpet, with smaller wooden doors lining each side.
Carved arches offer a view to the outside world through their lead glass panes. I suck in a breath at the sight I’m met with. There’s no rolling grass hill, their blades swaying in the wind here. No—the ground looks as though it’s composed of dried magma, the cracks emitting a red glow of the magma flowing beneath it. I know it’s magma because of the stream of molten lava that flows just beyond it, flames erupting from their depths every so often as clumps of debris fall in from the nearby cliff.
I’m in the infernal realm. I let that thought sink in. I knew he would take me here but suspecting and seeing are two completely different things.
I swallow thickly, willing my expression into one of neutrality as I glance back at Titus. My eyes harden as I take him in, but I don’t struggle from his hold, knowing I won’t be able to hold myself up. I’d prefer him to support me rather than showing how truly drained I am at this moment.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” I breathe, a million conflicting emotions running through my mind. My brows crease, unsure if he’ll even care or not.
“I know, Liv,” he admits, his tone chagrined. He shakes his head as though attempting to shake off his own guilty thoughts. “There are greater forces at play right now, though … far out of my control.”
I’m about to ask him what exactly could be out of his control, when his arm shifts, supporting my weight and cutting off my thoughts.
“I can’t put this off any longer,” he murmurs, almost to himself as he leads me towards a set of closed double doors. My mind urges me to fight, but I barely have enough energy to move my feet right now, and he knows it. I have no idea who is behind that door, and my pride demands I at least walk through them and not be thrown over his shoulder or carried through. I take a deep breath, steeling for whatever or whoever is behind that door.
Titus pushes open the doors before leading me through. They remain open as I glance around the room. Two ornate silver thrones sit on the opposite side of the room, the seats a plush black fabric. Tapestries line the walls, with more arched windows interspersed between them. I keep my gaze from the view outside, not wanting to think about the brutal world surrounding us right now.
He leads me over to a large table with chairs similar to the thrones surrounding it, though they are nowhere near as large and imposing. I sink into the chair closest to me as Titus slowly guides me down, and I’m grateful to have somewhere to rest and think about my next move.
I glance around the room again and breathe a sigh of relief when I register that no one else is here. That is until Titus says, “I trust you’ll stay here while I get the others.”
He moves between me and the door, about to leave, when a shadow approaches, the click of heels sounding against the stone floor.
“Titus, what’s going on?” a female voice asks from the hallway we just left, her tone soft and melodic. The voice soothes me even though I don’t recognize it. The sound is as familiar to me as it is foreign. My head whips around at the sound of its own accord, and I barely register the movement.
I peer around Titus, attempting to glimpse the woman past his form. She’s around my height, dressed in a glittering black gown, the sparkles reflecting the muted light, giving the impression of light and dark mixed into one. Her hands poised on her hips and her stance exudes the power within. I can still feel the sheer strength of her energy rolling off her, even if I couldn’t see the thick black shadows roiling off her form, searching through the room as though she’s commanding them.
I attempt to lean further, but I don’t want to chance moving with my dwindling energy. I glimpse her dark-brown hair, styled into thick waves, but nothing else.
“I thought you’d be excited to finally meet your daughter, mother dearest.” Titus declares with amusement, as he steps aside, his arms crossing over his chest. Yet, I don’t see the twinkle of satisfaction in his gaze, only a bone-deep weariness.
“Welcome home, sister,” he says, just as I shift my gaze back to the woman before me. Her dark blue eyes widen in shock as her gaze moves to me. I examine her in much the same way, seeing the similarities between us, the same nose, jaw, and cheekbones.
The woman before me is my mother, Octavia, God of Death.
