Page 115 of Broken Souls

Her head snaps up at that, and fierce anger burns in her eyes. “Fuckyou,” she snaps. “Fuck everyone who thinks that of him. He isKhalid. He is more than just a weapon to be used. He deserves to know what it’s like to have people who love him.”

“Varius loves –”

“He makes him kill those he loves! He loves Talon. He loves all his brothers so fucking much, and his job is to kill them without mercy. He is not just a weapon to be used,” she repeats, agony in every word. “He is a person. He’s my person.”

Fuck. I hate how that gets to me. I still hate her and want to kill her, but I can understand where she is coming from.The bitch.

“You knew I loved him,” I snarl, holding on to my rage with both hands. I clench my fists.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Steely determination fills her blue eyes. “But I couldn’t leave him on his own. He’s going to hurt so much after he kills Talon. I don’t want him to be alone or think he’s a monster.”

I clench my jaw, hating how I can see myself in her and Varius in Khalid. The both of us are fighting to make our monsters feel whole.

But there is a difference that only increases my jealousy. Her monster fights to protect her. Mine tortures me.

Turning from her, I snap, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

Then I spin back around, remembering I want ice cream. She scrambles out of the way as I yank open the fridge and take the whole pot with me. I stab a spoon into it and take a bite. I wrinkle my nose; it’s missing something.

Turning to the fridge, ignoring the whore standing in my peripheral, I rummage around until I find it. Grabbing the jar of pickles, I open it and pour a bit into the ice cream tub. I take a bite, nod in approval, then storm out of the room to go enjoy my lunch in peace.

“Hey, bitch.”

My eyes widen as I spin towards the hallway leading to the side door of the house.

Dayne is standing there with a smile on his face and a rucksack on his back. Running towards him, I leap into his outstretched arms. He catches me with a laugh even though I spill pickle juice all over him.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say into his neck.

“I almost wasn’t,” he says with a dry chuckle.

I pull back, knowing that tone. I glare at him as I check him over for wounds. I don’t see any, but he could be hiding some under his T-shirt and shorts. “Strip.”

“No.” He crosses his arms.

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Then what happened?”

“I got a hit called out on me while I was in Europe.”

“What! And you didn’t call?” I wince, realizing that he shouldn’t have had to. “Shit. I should’ve checked in on you.” I can feel him through the magical rune I tattooed on his skin; he used to be able to feel me through a matching rune I had on my hip, but Varius made me burn it off.

Concentrating on the bond between us, I notice that Dayne’s heart is beating slightly higher than normal. He’s still on edge. Fuck. How close did he come to dying?

“It’s fine –” he starts, seeing me frown.

“Yeah, because I saved your ass,” a guy says as he steps forward and slaps Dayne’s ass. My friend’s jaw locks as he spins out of range of the newcomer.

My eyes widen as I recognize him.“Torture guy?”

With a charming smile, the guy Dayne (and sometimes I) tortured, thinking he was working for my blackmailer, tips his black cowboy hat. “Name’s Quinton,” he says with a western drawl.

“What were you doing in Europe with him?” My eyes widen as I glance between them. “Oh my gods, are you two fu–”

“No,” Dayne says sharply. “Varius has had him watching me since we let him go. He escorted me back from France. That’s it.”

“Technically, I’ve been watching you since well before I got tortured,” he says as he shifts the two backpacks he has hanging off his shoulders. “Weren’t you in the same room with me for most of that time? Somewhere I could see you? Hmmm?”

Dayne turns his head to glare at him before looking back at me. “Do you see what shit I’ve had to deal with these past few days?”