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“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
“I’m not doing this for me.”
When I’m done with Azrael, he’s nothing but a heap of soon-to-be-rotting carcass resting upon the floor.
I tried to keep it clean, for Asha’s sake. There’s no evidence left of how much pain I ensured he suffered. In fact, he looks rather peaceful, which he doesn’t deserve and leaves me feeling a bit hollow, but it is what it is.
I didn’t do this to fill a void in my chest. This wasn’t about revenge.
I’m about to turn to leave, when I hear a faint shuffle in the corner. I turn to find none other than Kiran stepping out of the shadows on the other side of the cell.
I wipe the blood staining my lips onto my sleeve.
“One of the guards tell you I wasn’t Lydia?”
Kiran nods absentmindedly. He doesn’t look at me. He just stares at the body crumpled on the floor. The carcass of the male who’s caused him so much grief.
“Why?” he asks.
“Why what?”
Kiran levels me with an unamused glare. “Why did you kill him?”
I step out of the cell, the door creaking as I do, and transform back into the human version of myself, one without fangs or venom or speed or an unhealthy aversion to sunlight.
I shrug. “Because you couldn’t.”
“She’ll feel betrayed,” Kiran says, knitting his brow in concern.
“Eh. I’m used to it. The question is, Kiran, do you feel betrayed?”
He flicks his molten eyes down toward me. “You know I can’t answer that question.”
“But you know what question you can answer? When Asha asks if you knew anything about this, you’re free, Kiran. Free to say you had nothing to do with it.”
It’s not quite a smile that tugs on Kiran’s lips. Probably because he knows he’ll have to break the news to Asha that her sadistic best friend is dead.
It’s not a smile.
But it’s close.
“We good?” I ask, injecting the question with way more eagerness than I intended.
This time, Kiran allows me the smallest of amused huffs, though his arms are still crossed.
“Yeah, Blaise. We’re good.”
CHAPTER 119
ELLIE
My father and I are in the workshop, covered in sweat and coating the last bunker door with glass. We’ve run out of weapons to fortify, so we’ve taken to preparing the city shelters.
I don’t let myself think about what will have happened in Naenden if these shelters become necessary.
What will have happened to Evander.
But as my father and I stare at the last of the bunker doors, waiting for the glass coating to cool, and I realize there is nothing left for me to do as far as preparing for an attack, a deep dread settles over my gut.
