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I’d been glued to the old man’s side ever since.
Over the course of three years, I met with him for three hours a day, seven days a week. An ex-military man with a wealth of experience in black ops, he learned why I’d fled Aldrich and turned me into a killing machine. Finding each other was serendipitous and eventually had deadly results. My mind often wondered how a man so skilled found a desperately hurting girl like me. However, I was a mess those days, a shadow of a girl who was fighting fate with her fists, willing to cling to anyone.
When Hudson decided I was ready, he took me on several jobs. Initially, it was pretty easy. He found vulnerable victims and let me loose on their attackers.
The first kill after Geralt was hard.
The second one was easier.
I didn’t even flinch the third time.
Over time, I became better at what I did. With Hudson’s guidance, I punished my own criminals. Killing Geralt wasn’t enough. I had a bloodlust that couldn’t be satisfied.
I felt as if a switch had been flipped in my mind. The cold-blooded murderer in me did not cry when she was covered in her enemy’s blood. I knew how to get away with things. Hudson taught me to wash off the blood, burn the evidence, then silently suppress every instinct to sob or feel guilty.
“Christine?”
I closed my eyes and walked down the opulent hallway, away from that dining room and all the men that were sitting at King Frederick’s table. I recognized a couple of them. Patronizing idiots. It made them feel superior when they put me down. I was certain that I could snap their necks, and that empowering thought kept me calm while they talked about my birthing hips and how pretty I’d look in a wedding dress. “Christine?!”
A hand came down on my upper arm, and I whirled around.
How many men had I killed now? I think today made eleven.
Always be on the defense.
Always be ready.
“Are you okay?”
I peered up at August through my thick lashes. He seemed completely unaware of what I’d done in his mother’s sitting room this morning.
No one ever suspected me. It’s why Hudson said I was the best at what I did. Even the queen alluded to what I was capable of doing. My most effective weapon was how everyone seemed to underestimate me. The previous life I lived became a costume I wore, which I used to disarm anyone who came into contact with me.
Those who underestimated Christine Abernathy would die regretting their decision.
“I’m fine.” I knew he was asking about this dinner, but I was referring to the three men I murdered in the queen’s sitting room. I was used to this part of killing. Used to pretending like I hadn’t become a murderer—like I wasn’t a monster. I learned how to defend myself and those weaker than me. It was an act of survival, and my body had been trained to react whenever it was in danger. No king on earth would ever intimidate me again. No lord would conquer my body for his own personal gain.
August didn’t know about my enhanced skills. And I prayed he never did.
He licked his lips nervously. “Are you sure? You seem off.”
Before shrugging free from his grip, I whispered, “What do you care?” I needed some space. The blood on my skin had to be washed away. In spite of scrubbing my body for four hours today, it still didn’t feel like enough. Though I had passed the queen’s tests, my innocence had failed.
He stared incredulously at me. “I might be an asshole, but I care. Of course I fucking care. I just fucking fired a guy for you.”
If he cared, he wouldn’t have told me he hated me last night. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, August. I can handle those bastards.”
He flinched. “Since when? The girl I know used to hide under her mother’s dress whenever the lords of the court showed up.”
I laughed. He wasn’t wrong. I was once a weak girl, but not anymore. “I don’t hide anymore. A lot has changed.”
He took a step closer to me, his tone softening. “And I want to know all about those changes. I guess we have plenty of time to go over them all now. Did you know about this?” August asked while nodding back at the door leading to the dining room.
I tilted my head back and let out a single laugh. “Which part? Did I know your mother was planning to force us to get married or that she would announce it to a room of men who despise me?” I asked.
August nervously scratched the back of his head. I watched the movement with fondness. He used to do that a lot as a boy. “Both?” he asked.
“I knew. She told me this morning at our meeting.”
