AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I clean my shoe with the back of his jeans, my eyes lifting to the girl beside me as Pop follows Deacon.
“What’s your name?” My shoulders straighten when I stand at my full height.
Nervous tics aren’t something I am familiar with, unless you count Priest’s hobby, War’s obsession, and Vaden’s purity.
“Salem.” With two fishtail braids over her slender shoulders, her makeup is flawless, but that aside, she carries herself with the kind of confidence that is made from mishandling.
We make our way down the path that leads to the building. I don’t bother filling the silence with empty words or chatter. That’s not my style, but I get the feeling it isn’t hers either.
I pause at the entrance, scanning the lines of maple trees with thick, black leaves and trunks. The wind breezes through my hair and leaves a dusting of shivers down my spine.
This should be something I’m happy about.
But betrayal tastes bitter no matter how it’s swallowed.
I clear my throat. “Furniture?”
One of the men helping Deacon takes the space beside me, cleaning the blood from his arm with a bandana. I peer up at him through tired eyes.
“All there. The harbor is through the forest to the back. It gives you direct control fromthereto here.” I don’t have to ask what he means by there.
“Kinder…” His name falls from my lips the same way it did all those weeks ago, when we were on Perdita. The sun sneaks through the clouds above, displaying the brilliant gold flecks in his mossy green eyes. “You’ve done well. You should be proud.”
He remains stoic, offering nothing at all. “As you know, we are not familiar with the feeling.” The pause he takes is long. “It is my honor. Your uncle Daemon meant a great deal to me.”
“I’m sorry for your loss all those years ago. He was before my time, so I didn’t know him.” Priest inherited his middle name from him. If the stories about my mom’s twin brother are true, which I know they are, I’m thinking the uncle-nephew apple may not have fallen far.
I touch the side of his arm, squeezing the tight muscle. “And you’ll get used to the feeling.”
We all will.
War
Skin splitsfrom beneath my palm and blood stains my hands the tighter I squeeze. I’ve killed many times. All the fucking time. It’s as easy as breathing for all of us, and to some, like breathing down the neck of a Victoria’s Secret model. I can count how many times I’ve killed in a blaze of rage.
None.None at fucking all.
The lifeless body slips from my hand and onto the ground. The scene in front of me is pure chaos. Not just a blaze of rage, but the whole fucking fire. White noise screams through my ears as my feet catch and I almost fall.
The scream of people running for their lives finally replaces the toneless tune, as my foot lands on a faceless corpse. Bodily fluids swell around the sole of my combat boot as I fish out the packet of cigarettes from my back pocket.
My teeth catch the trunk with a hiss, as I light the end with my Zippo. The glimmering metal of my ring reflects off the orange flames, igniting that same hunger for her that I’ve craved even more since that night.
I need to shut it all out. This. Her. Me.
The spillage of mountains hides in the distance, as more gunfire resounds around the valley. I expected more. Somehow. All this time, these motherfuckers have been here? With a bunch of rugged-up weirdos doing—whatever the fuck they’re doing. A large house is built in the center, encased by a pebble of smaller shacks.
The screaming dies into the darkness as people dressed in white robes run for their lives, scattering like feral cats. It doesn’t occur to me why they all seem to be running in one direction, until a Jeep speeds up beside me with a flick of grass.
Priest stands with his machete in one hand and the torn flesh of a severed head in his other. The sound of skin splitting open against a sharp blade bellows through the air as intestines slip through Vaden’s fingers.
The holy one still bends for the Devil sometimes. Not usually.What the fuck?
The Jeep stops, and the back door swings open. “We need to leave. Over that mountain is around fifty or so men! Get in!” Baylee yells, gesturing over Samson who’s in the back. Luckily, we managed to wrangle them both for the last-minute mission… since just twelve hours earlier, it was a much different tone.
Twelve Hours Earlier
Suspicion has my eyes flying between Katsia and the car.
