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I’m fucking dying. Or a part of me is, and it’s stealing my strength one memory at a time. This is like nothing I’ve researched about when a bond is broken or rejected. When that happens, the rejected goes insane, lost to blood lust or completely fucking feral. Like London was on her way to becoming before I erased myself from her mind.
It's never been proven, but the whispered rumors in Rathe say that’s how The Slasher was born—a man thrown away by the woman the fates gave him. It makes sense when you think about it. As the days following a broken bond go on, and the self-loathing turns into something else, the rejected begin to crave the blood of the bonded. They feast on those with tethered souls.
But this? I try to swallow. This empty, depraved helplessness clawing at my organs is not a bond being broken.
It is the result of the death of your soul keeper, the finalextractionof a bond.
My mate is dead.
My London ... dead.
My body shakes, and I vaguely register it's from the touch of another, but I fall deeper into my mind, seeking hers. I search the depths of my gift but all I find is an empty fucking hole where she used to be. A heart with no beat. A sky with no stars.
A king without his fucking queen.
Baby, I’m so sorry.
“Knight!”
I jolt, eyes peeling open to find a blurry, bloody version of my older brother. “Creed?” I rasp, swaying.
What the hell?
My wrists are bound by fire, as I tilt my head up to see what I’m tied to, only to find a rope glowing a brilliant red connecting me to the ceiling. “Fuck. Where are we?”
Creed hangs beside me, kicking Legend awake as I turn to find Sinner on the other side, trying to pull himself up from the rope.
“Can’t. Fuck. They’ve got us by a Hellhounds Leash.” The very same shit my father used to keep his Hellhounds secure until we needed them. “Who did this?”
Creed finally kicks Legend hard enough for him to stir awake. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is going to sleep.”
I scan over my memories, trying to think of the last thing I remember. “I killed Alex, then my body, it felt the bond leave me and I—” I squeeze my eyes closed. “Fuck. Then I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after that.”
“I know who this is...” Sinner growls, finally dropping in defeat. “The fucking Ministry. Only they had access to dad’s Hellhounds, and only to them are we a fucking threat.”
“I don’t give a fuck. They’re dead.” I look around the space to try to find our options, but the dulling ache in my chest refuses to release me. Like a fucking constant throbbing of guilt, London’s claw marks that she left on my heart have no chance of leaving. I’m not sure I want them to. If the pain of losing her is all I have left, then I’ll feel it for the rest of my life.
“There’s no exit. If I’m guessing right and it is the Ministry, then we’re locked in the vault below the meeting room, since it’s the only place no one can enter unless you’re a Ministry member.”
“So, in other words...” Legend laughs manically. “We’re fucking stuck in here until they don’t need us anymore.”
“Or kill us...” I say through gritted teeth.
“Why the fuck would they kill us?” Sinner asks from the side, and I have to fight everything inside of me to not tell them what I’ve been thinking all along. Or maybe they already know.No. They don’t.
“Have any of you noticed how calm mom has been since dad was murdered?” I keep my eyes peeled to the one door in the room. Waiting for it to open, for one of the Ministry members to stroll through and finally tell us what the fuck has been going on.
Had they wanted this all along, to kill us, only waiting for the King to die? Possibly. Most likely.
“Expand on that.” Creed tries to turn toward me. “Are you saying she put us here?”
“No, I’m saying she isn’t at all upset about the fact that hermateis dead.”
“Where the hell is Mom? She was with us, in the hall.” Legend frowns between us. “Think they killed her like they likely did dad?”
“No,” Sinner spits. “They’d make us watch if they did. She’s likely locked up somewhere with talons in her temples so they can steal her every last bit of information to use shit against us.”
I tug on the rope again, even though the fire burns through my skin. The way I continue to heal is a weak distraction from the turmoil that’s spinning inside of me. I think over the people in the Ministry.
