Page 7 of Awakened Destiny (The Dark Ascendant #3)

Brigid

The Morrigan propels my body to the outskirts of town. I ’ m still reeling from the encounter with Stacy. What she did to her, how Stacy pleaded for her to stop. For me to stop.

I reach desperately for that golden thread connecting me to my mates, but it's fading. I ’ m not even sure I can feel it anymore. Panic rises in my throat.

"They can't help you now," the Morrigan whispers.

She ’ s probing my memories, and images flash before my eyes. The old warehouse, graffiti-covered walls, broken windows. Donal's old hangout. The memory of stale beer and weed makes my stomach churn.

No , I say. I won't go there.

The Morrigan's influence is strong, too strong to change her course. I dig in, fighting against the pull. "I'm not your puppet."

"Aren't you?" Her voice is soft but resonant. "Your anger, your pain, it feeds me. Feeds us. Embrace it."

She shows me. She makes me remember. Rage bubbles up, hot and familiar. I want to scream, to lash out, to make them all pay. The temptation to give in is overwhelming.

"That's it," the Morrigan coos. "Let go. Let me in."

Please , I whisper, find me . I can't do this alone.

Silence. The connection to my mates is dying. I've never felt so utterly terrifyingly alone.

The Morrigan's voice is triumphant. "You see? No one's coming to save you.“

I feel myself moving.

The stench of piss and burnt rubber hits me first. My feet step over shattered glass glittering in the moonlight, but I feel nothing, no pain. Rainwater drips through where part of the ceiling is collapsed, plinking into puddles that mirror jagged holes where windows once were.

Mike ’ s braying laugh slices through decaying walls. “ Fuckin ’ score, man! Told you that rich prick would pay double.”

A lighter clicks. Sean ’ s voice rumbles lower, meaner. “ Should ’ ve asked triple. You seen his fuckin ’ yacht?”

My palm scrapes rusted metal as I push open the side door. The screech of hinges drowns beneath the pounding blood in my ears. Shadows cling to corners where Donal once pinned me against the wall, his breath reeking of Jameson and contempt. You ’ re lucky I touch this, he ’ d sneered, his skinny fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips.

Sean freezes mid-count, cash clutched in sausage hands. Mike squints through cigarette smoke curling around his greasy mustache. “ The fuck?”

Recognition hits them slow. Sean ’ s beady, piggish eyes narrow. “ Brigid? Christ, thought you were in some loony bin.” He leers, thumbing his belt buckle. “ Miss us?”

Her power thrums under my skin, dark and sweet as poisoned honey. Let me show you true strength.

Mike snorts. “ Nah, she ’ s here to collect.” He mimes jerking off, tongue lolling. “ Right, bitch? Changed your mind.”

The warehouse gets darker. Not metaphorically—actual shadows close in. Sean stops laughing when his Zippo gutters out suddenly, despite no wind.

“ The woods.” My voice echoes unnaturally. “ That evening. You were waiting for me.”

Mike ’ s cigarette drops. “ The hell—”

“ Donal said you could share, remember?” Morrigan pushes me closer. “ Greedy, disgusting boys. Trying to steal what was never offered to you.”

Sean lunges up, knocking over milk crates stocked with heroin baggies. “ Enough creepy shit! You want another go? Huh?” Spittle flies as he grabs his crotch.

She reaches out, trailing a finger along Sean's stubbled jaw. The Morrigan leans in. "Shall I show you what true fear feels like?"

Sean's eyes widen, terror replacing bravado as he notices the shadows moving as if alive, all around us. His skin pales beneath our touch.

Mike scrambles backwards, knocking over beer bottles. "What the fuck are you?"

The Morrigan's laughter rings out, using my voice, but twisted, hollow. "I am vengeance. I am death." She turns my head, fixing Mike with a predator's gaze. "I am the nightmare you deserve."

No , I plead silently. This isn't me. I don't want this.

But a part of me does. The anger I've buried for so long roars to life, demanding retribution.

Darkness pools in my palms. It would be so easy. Morrigan ’ s laugh vibrates through our shared throat. They ’ re already dead, little queen. We ’ re just settling accounts .

We trail a shadow-tipped finger down Mike ’ s trembling cheek. His bladder lets go, ammonia sharp.

Mike backpedals into a support beam. “ Donal made us! Swear to Christ! We were only joking that night.”

"Joking?" The word drips with venom, and this time it ’ s me, not her. "You call what you tried to do to me… a joke?"

Rage boils up inside me, and for once, I don't fight it. These men, these monsters, deserve every ounce of pain and fear they're about to experience. They ’ ll never hurt another woman again.

Wait. My thought trembles. This isn ’ t —

Isn ’ t you? Morrigan purrs. This is all you, child. Her presence unfolds like a spider ’ s legs, skittering through every memory of their hands, their laughter, their absolute certainty that no one would believe the orphan freak. She brings it all back, even as I try to shut it all out again.

Some fractured part of me wants to watch the light leave their eyes. Another part claws at the darkness, screaming. Stop this.

Mike ’ s scream shreds the silence first. Blood sprays across dirty and sagging metal shelves as the Morrigan drags her shadow-clawed hand through his belly. Entrails slither to concrete, steaming. I feel like I want to vomit, but my mouth floods with copper warmth. Her satisfaction.

Sean scrambles toward the exit. The Morrigan clicks our tongue. “ Tsk. Men like him are always cowards. Look how he runs.”

She lets him reach the door. Lets his fingers brush the handle. Then snaps our wrist. Shadows whip across the warehouse, serpent-quick. They wrap his ankles, yank. His chin cracks against floorboards. Two teeth skitter into an oil stain.

“ Please.” He crawls backward, snot bubbling over split lips. “ We didn ’ t... Donal said you wanted it.”

The Morrigan steps over Mike ’ s twitching corpse. Her laugh tastes like tar in my mouth. “ Boys who lie get their tongues cut out.”

She steps on Sean ’ s groin. Crushing pressure. His scream curdles into a wet gurgle. Darkness flood every part of me that ’ s left, heady and warm, and for one single heartbeat, I don ’ t hate it.

His begging turns to choked whimpers as shadows peel him open. Ribs snap like kindling. The Morrigan hums as she roots through his chest cavity. Blood paints our arms to the elbows. Sean ’ s heart bursts between our fingers.

I feel cold wetness as it drips down my cheeks. Tears.

There ’ s the sound of a meaty thud as Sean ’ s body collapses.

The Morrigan wipes our hands on his shirt. “ There now. No more monsters under the bed.”

I retch as bile scorches my throat. But there ’ s nothing left in my stomach to expel. Mike ’ s glassy eyes stare up from the floor, his mouth still twisted in that final plea.

“ Look at them,” the Morrigan croons inside my skull. “ Justice served at last.”

“ This wasn ’ t justice. This was slaughter.”

“ Semantics.” Her laughter echoes through empty rafters. “ You wanted this. All I did was offer it to you.”

A choked sob rips free. “ Not like this! I ’ m not... I didn ’ t ask to become this!”

The Morrigan ’ s whisper curls around me. “ They would ’ ve torn you apart. Taken you, then left you curled up in the dirt, crying and broken. And you think I ’ m the monster?”

No. I will not become this. “ Get out of my head!”

Silence.

Then:“Oh Brigid.” Her sigh rustles through the dangling chains overhead. “ You ’ re in my head now.” She laughs.

Ice spiders down my spine.

“But not for long.”