Page 4

As soon as she was safe, I flew forward, shoving Peyton out of my way, my hand coming straight to Carter’s throat. Peyton screamed in the background, but everyone else fell to silence. I squeezed roughly until I felt his throat cripple under my palm. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this…”
“—Can we not be theatrical right now? There’s a baby in the room. I don’t know, but I feel like that would be wrong…” Eli muttered in the background.
“B?” I murmured, my eyes never leaving Carter.
I waited a few seconds until I knew Bishop would have turned Micaela away. It momentarily snapped me out of my rage, but not enough to not kill Carter. Just enough to realize I have my blade strapped to my belt. I snatch it out and in one movement, slice him across his neck until blood splatters all over my chest.
Brantley chuckles behind me, his hand coming to my shoulder as Carter’s body drops with a loud thud to the floor.
Hector tsks from behind me. “I can’t leave any of you unattended.”
“I hate him,” I answer honestly.
Turning in my spot, I catch Bishop grinning at me while covering Micaela’s eyes and ears. “For being a part of this, or for having a hard dick for Tillie?”
“…You gonna off me, too? Because I gotta say…” Brantley squeezes his jean covered cock. “Somethin’ about her…”
I shove him, swiping the blood off my face. “Fuck you.”
Hector shakes his head like a father scolding his young before looking back to the other three men Peyton had behind her. “We have a problem here?”
They shake their heads.
“Good. Because if I see any of you again, you’ll meet the end of my cane. You included, Peyton.”
Peyton pauses, her eyes frantically searching Hector’s. “I can go?”
“I’m many things, young girl, but we gave you our word. You gave him back his daughter, we give you your life.”
Tillie
Rubble is embedded into my flesh, my throat dry from thirst.
“Daemon?” I whisper hoarsely, tilting my head to face his cell.
He comes closer until he’s leaning into me, my back touching his. Warm comfort flushes through me, and I sigh, exhaling instantly.
“What, Puella?”
“How are you alive? I heard your death was brutal. You died.”
When he doesn’t answer right away, I turn to face him, bringing my hand to the back of his neck. I crank his face toward me. “How?”
His eyes search mine, empty black pits of obscurity. Daemon breaks my heart. He was doomed from the start, never given a fair go. Even less than me, or—I look toward Abel, watching as he tilts his head back to rest on the cold wall, his hoodie dropping over his eyes. Maybe even Abel.
I go back to Daemon. “Then what happened?”
Daemon, in his broken language, starts to slowly explain. “They fixed the parts they could and the others…”
“The others?” I whisper, my hand coming to his arm.
“Are still broken.”
“You’ve been here this whole time?” I ask, anger simmering.
He shakes his head. “No, Mic—”
I shake my head. “No, Daemon. I won’t talk about her.”
His face falls. “Okay, Puella.”
“I will get us out,” I say, rubbing my palm up and down Daemon’s arm. I look to Abel who has already got his eyes on me. “All of us.”
Abel gives me a strange look but doesn’t say anything else.
A door cracks open and slams shut. Footsteps thud down the cold corridor matching the beat of my heart.
I know who it is without looking.
“Let me out,” I retort, my tone flat.
I see his shadow shift out of the corner of my eye, kneeling down to my level.
“I thought you didn’t mind playing games?” Nate’s voice takes hold of my heart and squeezes.
I bring my eyes to his, dead and expressionless. “I do when I’m the coach.”
I try to squash what he does to me, but it’s no use. I will always be powerless when it comes to Nate, but I control how I exude it. Conceal, don’t feel, and all of that.
He stands, swiping his hands on his pants and unlocking my cell door. “The two of you need to come with me.”
I crank my head over my shoulder to look at Abel. “I take it Bishop knows about him now?”
Nate’s hand comes to mine and the electricity that zaps through has me rearing away from him.
We start walking down the corridor, following Nate’s broad back. He unlocks a heavy metal door and pushes it open as he leads us up large rectangular concrete steps. Candles line every step, like something out of a medieval castle. The walls are elegantly decorated with expensive looking art, framed in thick gold metal.
“Nate?” I whisper, but he doesn’t answer.
We get to the top to find another door. He opens that and instantly, the aged medieval feeling is replaced with modern furnishings and marble floors. We’re in the foyer of the mansion. Flushed with crystal furnishings, white-washed walls. I follow Nate down the hallway until he stops at the opening of a room at the very end that has no door.