Page 107

“Come any closer, and I’ll kill her,” he warns, making me scoff.

“Please, you’re going to kill her whether I approach or not.” His eyes darken, hating that I know his plays, but unfortunately for him, I don’t have time to waste spreading out the torture for his long-overdue death. “Now, you’re going to let her go because you’ve done enough damage to her, and you and I are going to fight this out. You owe me.”

His jaw tics, irritation creeping up his cheeks, but his hold on Leila only tightens.

Fine, I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way.

“Leila,” I call out calmly, and her gaze fixes on me as she goes still in his hold. “Aim low,” I state, not wasting a moment before I eliminate the remaining space between us with my sword aimed high as she forces all of her weight to the ground.

Grave is too busy trying to keep his hold on Leila to brace for my attack, so it’s completely satisfying and devastatingly swift when my blade spears into the flesh at his throat, digging deep as blood squirts everywhere. The nick of an important artery will do that to you.

His grip on Leila quickly relaxes and she stumbles from his grasp a moment later, catching herself at my side as she turns to watch the life drain from this asshole’s face. I tug my sword from his throat for good measure as he drops to his knees, eyes rolling to the back of his head before he collapses in a heap.

Holy fuck.

I was hoping for something way more satisfying when it came to him, but I guess it will have to do. Instead, I grab the hilt of my sword with both hands and sweep the blade down on his lifeless body a few more times for good measure. As someone who didn’t quite die at the hands of one of these swords, I want to be sure he definitely gets the pleasure.

“Are you okay?” I ask, peering at Leila, who nods distractedly for a moment before she shakes it off and turns to face me.

“Thank you.”

“Where’s your sword?” I ask, not acknowledging her appreciation when I definitely did it more for myself than anyone else.

“My father took it.”

“Took it? Where is he?” My gaze is already sweeping around the crowd, but there’s too much happening around us to see him.

“I don’t fucking know,” she grumbles, sweeping a bloody hand down her face.

“Why can’t you just summon it back? Fuck him,” I grunt, and she sighs.

“Because he snapped it in half, rendering it useless.”

Professor Fitch will forever be an enigma to me. He’s a self-centered, single-minded fool. I’d gladly see him dead too.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to offer her mine before I remember that the swords choose us, so sharing isn’t caring in this instance.

“Fuck, Raven,” she murmurs, the tone heightening my adrenaline and drawing my focus back to our immediate surroundings, where I find Ruben approaching us with two of his henchman flanking his sides.

Perfect.

The three of them circle around us like we’re the dainty little hunted, but I’m not afraid of them. Ruben makes a little show of twirling his sword around in the air and I yawn, absolutely fucking bored.

“Are you done? We actually have shit to do,” I stare at my nails, picking at the blood that’s already starting to dry, and Ruben laughs like I’m telling the world’s best joke.

“Baby Girl, I’m just sad I won’t get to pry those legs open before I kill you. Maybe I can keep your body out of sight so I can come back for you later,” he says with a wink, making bile burn the back of my throat as Leila openly wretches.

“You’re disgusting,” she snaps.

“And you’re dead,” he retorts, slowing a few yards away from us, and I have to school my features for a whole five seconds before I get to throw his own words back at him.

“No… you are.” I smile wide as three out of my four men come to a stop behind them, swords poised between their shoulder blades before they stab them with force, their blades erupting through the fronts of their chests. Wide eyes meet mine and I can’t help but inch closer to Ruben as he falls forward, capturing his chin in between my finger and thumb.

“Don’t worry, Baby Boy, I have no intentions of fucking your corpse, but I’m going to leave you in the perfect spot for the Drakes to feast on you.” I look over his head, meeting Brax’s stare, and nod. One motion from me, and he twists the sword inside him before snapping it back. He falls at my feet beside his comrades, death claiming each of them in turn.

“Blood should not look this good on you,” Creed states with an assessing eye, and I gape at him for a moment, expecting that kind of comment to come from Zane, not him. Eldon pats his friend on the shoulder and Brax shakes his head gruffly while I try to figure out where the insane one is.

“Where’s Zane?” I ask, glancing around to come up empty-handed.