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Honestly, Nyjah is the first Sangue I’ve crossed paths with that hasn’t been on some sort of assassin mission. Most of them are cold, unable to live in the real world, unable to communicate on a normal level.
Nyjah takes another sip of his drink, finishing it off. “You’re crazy.”
“I never claimed to be sane,” I reply, getting to my feet. It’s time to go. Staying in the same place for too long is never good. “But it’s clear that you are.” I start for the door. “Have a nice life, Nyjah.”
I make it to the doorway before he calls out, “Wait.”
I pause then turn around as he walks over to me.
“If I agree to help you, I’m going to need to hear a plan. None of this going in blind shit that the Sangues are known for.”
“Oh, I have a plan. But it’s going to take some time.”
“And what’s that?”
“Eliminating the people who control it.”
He seems to consider what I’ve said. “This is crazy,” he says to himself. “I came here to get out of that shit … To let everything go.”
“Have you?”
He shakes his head, his expression flashing with anger. “No, and I never will.”
“You can help others before they have to go through it,” I respond, burying my own memories—the cries, the screams, the pain. “Are you with me or not?”
He wavers then nods. “Okay, I’m in. But just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for someone else.” The pain in his eyes lets me know it was probably someone close to him, someone who was killed during the training or took their own life, something that’s happened often.
“And that’s all right with me.” Because, in the end, all that really matters is that the damn warehouse burns to the ground and no one else has to suffer.
About the Author
Jessica Sorensen is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she’s not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.
