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“Do you think she’ll like it?”
What the fuck does he care?
“My wife”—I enunciate the words in case he’s forgotten whose prisoner she is—“prefers something more chaotic. Such as my flame biting her skin when I burn the lies from her.”
A laugh bursts from his chest. “In that case, I’ll up the tempo. After all, we all need to be laid to rest to a melody of our liking.”
My eyebrows arch, and I’m immediately in his face again. When Enoch chose my brothers and the covenant was formed, he commanded we not cross each other. It was written that we were forbidden to harm anyone—our brothers included. But threatening my wife may be my breaking point.
“After all, I’m assuming once I tell you she ran off with Blake and one more favorite person of yours, you’ll kill her for giving you a headache. I was preparing.”
He’s so full of shit.
He wasn’t doing this for me. Or Reese.
He’s twisted and likes watching me squirm under my weakness.
“If you don’t tell me where she is, I’ll kill you for inducing a headache.”
His eyes roll at my empty threat before he takes the clean music sheet and scribbles something with a pen that he grabbed from his coat pocket. I can’t make out what he’s writing until he drops it to the floor over all the bloodied ones. Plucking it from the pile, I make out his cursive handwriting, a quote covering the notes.
“Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death, and death will have his day.”
Shakespeare.
She fucking left with Shakespeare. Blake is annoying but not a threat. However, Shakespeare…
Something like worry claws at my throat.
Bach stands and rounds my side, where I’m frozen in place, my blood simmering with rage. His hand finds my shoulder as he motions to the sheet in my hand.
“You keep it. You can set it ablaze next to her body. It’s normally my signature, but in your case, it will be your freedom.”
Bach steps in front of me, his eyes finding mine. “An end to all ends—where death finally parts you both.”
Part of me wants to kill Reese for leaving my side, but the weak part wants to find her and protect her from the horrors that my brother can inflict. Maybe that’s why I set the paper on fire right there, watching as the ashes fall around my feet. If I do kill her, sheet music won’t fall on her grave. The petals of the eastern sunflower will be right next to where I burn beside her.
Bach snatches the paper from my hand, and I happily let him. “We both know you won’t do that, though. Your newfound feelings for your wife have made you soft.”
He’ll burn, too.
Right after Tennyson, who’s been eavesdropping, with Simeon sitting at his side as he drags his hand along his head.
I don’t bother with niceties.
“My wife is my prisoner to punish as I please.” But right now, the urge to punish her doesn’t rage inside me. Only Blake and whatever lie he fed her that convinced her to run from me. Reese has always been easy to fool—promise her something pretty on the other end, and she’ll do whatever you wish.
Freedom.
Her sister.
It’s all too easy.
But I wasn’t the only one Reese confided in. Fucking Blake knew her needs just as much as I did. For some reason, she believes he can provide them, but when I find her and torch Blake at her feet, she’ll realize her only option is me.
“I’ll ask one more time.” I clip as Bach holds one of Blake’s friends by his throat in his overpriced dorm, right next to a picture of him, Blake, and Reese at one of their many bonfires, where I watched from the shadows. “Where is Blake?”
The kid shakes his head slightly, paralyzed by Bach’s grip. “I told you; I don’t know! He didn’t come home last night.”
