Page 41

CHAPTER 40

M av lunges forward at Black’s command. His bright smile and dazzling blue eyes are gone. All the joy and life he carried with him is drained, and now he’s just a shell of a man intent on following orders. Before he can reach me, Tem tackles him from the side, growing in size and strength as his shadows and beast come out to play. I leave him to it as Goose, Wick, Santos, and Ara head towards me while Black lingers at the back. Ara has no blade, but I see his hands twitch and I brace myself.

One way or another, they will die tonight.

Magic soars past me like a whip, wrapping around Goose and yanking him past me to Jarek.

They will incapacitate them, and I’ll kill them.

It will work, but Black?

Black is mine.

I duck under Wick’s meaty fist, and Addeus drags him away. Santos suddenly disappears, undoubtedly from Zeev’s magic. Ara steps before me, but Ronan and Fang distract him and lead him away, giving me a clear shot to Black.

Flipping the dagger to face inwards, I head towards him. He waits with a cocky grin on his face, but it falters briefly when I step over Eric’s body. He’s not so sure anymore, and I can use that. I feint a swipe, and when he ducks under it, I kick out, sending him sprawling back. He recovers quickly, and his boot hits my side hard enough that I feel my ribs crack. Ignoring it, I dance out of his reach, which is the only thing that saves me as his fist comes up. I duck and weave, recalling moves we have done a million times in sparring matches.

We were always equal then, but we aren’t now.

He has a weakness. He’s scared of dying, and I am not.

I use that, making risky movements and leaning into hits that could kill me, but it pays off when he stumbles back. I dive at him, knocking him to the floor, and raise the dagger in a killing blow when my name splits the air in a panicked yell.

“Tate!” I turn at Ronan’s shout to see them struggling with Ara. I look at Black and debate killing him before I turn and hurry to help. Black can wait. I will not lose my people due to my revenge.

I leap onto Ara’s back as Fang holds one arm, Ronan the other, and drive the blade in deep, cutting his head off. He loved knives so much, at least he’d appreciate the irony of it.

Hopping off his corpse, I nod at them but sense movement behind me, then I see their eyes widen in horror.

Arms grab me from behind, and I fly through the air. I stop abruptly, then I’m lowered gently. When I glance over my shoulder, I nod my thanks to Jarek, who turns his attention back to his own battle. The dagger is done, knocked away in the attack, but I spy the glowing stones and dive at it, only to be blocked by Black. He grips the back of my shirt, lifts me in the air, and tosses me at the ceiling. I hit the panels hard, agony blooming in my back as I drop and hit the floor. I roll at the last second to stop him from breaking my face.

He’s on me again, gripping my neck as he flips me, cutting off my air as he grins above me. Black liquid drips from his lips and hits me, making me buck in disgust as I try to dislodge him, but he’s too strong. He’s going to break my neck.

Panting for breath under him, I watch as Ronan takes a running slide, grabs the dagger, and tosses it to me. I catch it with my extended hand, and with my last bit of strength, I slam it up. I can only reach his side, but he roars and falls off me. I see terror in Black’s eyes as he scrambles across the floor until his back hits the wall.

He covers the wound with his hand, eyeing the blade before he looks around, seeing they are losing, then he leaps to his feet and stumbles down the corridor, leaving a blood trail.

Rolling to my knees then my feet, I grip the blade and notice Goose is the closest. Furious, I leap at him and slice, gutting him before I sweep the blade across his neck. He falls down, dead like the others.

The blade is doing its thing, and it’s so hot in my hand it almost burns, but I don’t let go.

Turning, I find Wick on his knees with Addeus behind him. “It’s your kill.”

I walk over, staring into Wick’s soulless eyes. “I hope you never find peace,” I tell him as I stab the blade in and jerk it to the left and out. His head falls from his shoulders.

There’s a noise, and I turn to see Santos escaping Zeev’s choking grip. I smirk and head after him as he trips over Eric’s body and falls. Turning, he sees me coming, his eyes widening with true fear in those soulless depths.

“Wait, wait, Tate, please!” Santos screams as he crawls backwards to avoid me.

I ignore his pleas as I grab his hair and slice his head off, killing him.

Looking around, I find my entire team dead, their heads and bodies scattered around like broken dolls—all but Black. My eyes return to the trail of blood, and I know if I let him get away now, it will be worse, so I head after him.

“Tate, wait!” I ignore their calls as I run down the corridor, tracking the blood and smeared handprints on the wall that lead to the back door. I step out into the fresh air, seeing a pool of blood, but there’s no more after. It clicks into place as I sense it.

I roll forward to avoid him as he drops from the roof, his black blood spilling from his foaming mouth. He kicks the door that I came through shut and grabs a dumpster, blocking it as he heads towards me. “There’s no one to help you now, little girl.”

I grin. “Nor you.”

“You think you’re so strong with that dagger and those monsters behind you, but you’re nothing more than a hole to stick a dick into. Even when you were a hunter, you were weak with sentiment, too fragile and hormonal. I knew you wouldn’t last, but I was curious how much I could push you. I wanted to see you cross the line. I made a bet that I could make you do those things and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. Oh well, you’ll die either way. No one will care, and it will change nothing.”

“You’ve got it wrong, Black. That sentiment that you think makes me weak actually makes me strong. It makes people want to follow me—not out of fear, but out of trust and loyalty. It makes me stronger than you will ever be, and no one will remember you. You’re weak, Black, always have been. You’re nothing without a team, without someone to order around. You’re an old man the world doesn’t care about, and you can’t stand that you are weaker than the monsters you hate so much—weak mind, heart, and stomach.” I hold out my arms. “Kill me if you can.”

His eyes narrow, and he rushes me, all fury and hunger.

I duck under his hands, driving the dagger up, but he dances away and backhands me. I spin from the force, and he grabs me, yanking me back, and sharp pain blossoms in my left arm.

His teeth close around the flesh there, and he takes a chunk of it with him, making me roar. I stumble back, covering the wound in disgust as he chews on my skin and muscle and swallows it. “I’m going to eat every inch of you.”

“I’m going to put your head on a pike,” I retort sweetly as I drop my hand and tighten my grip on the dagger. This time, I don’t wait for him, and I dive at him with a flurry of perfectly practiced movements.

I’ve been fighting monsters since I was a child.

I never lose, and I won’t start now.

He might wear a familiar face, but he is just another kill.

His hand hits my thigh as I bring it up in a kick, and it goes dead, but I fight through it, bringing the dagger across like I planned. It slices his cheek, and he falls back. I keep driving him backwards with determination and strength created by his brutality and pain.

He manages to land a few solid blows on my face, bursting my nose and lip too. I know my eyes will swell as well, but I don’t care.

I use the pain as a reminder of what he did to me and the agony he put me through. As I move faster and with more force, I see fear enter his eyes as he realises I won’t be as easy to kill as he thought.

He got lucky last time, but not this time.

My hands seem to move faster than I’ve ever been able to before, as if something is guiding them. Power moves through me like when I use my gift, and when I smash my fist into his face, he staggers, his eyes going far away.

He’s locked in his mind . . . in his past.

His hands come up, clawing at his face as his memories assault him, and my eyes widen. Did I do that? I usually read memories, but did I give them back?

It’s the moment I need though. I kick him, and he hits the metal edge of the door the dumpster doesn’t cover. Just as he shakes his head and seems to come back to himself, I step right in front of him.

“Eat this,” I snarl as I drive the dagger into him. It pierces through his neck and stabs into the door behind him. His eyes widen and his mouth flops open before his face goes blank.

Dead.

Pulling the dagger free with a smirk, I watch his head fall from his body, then step past him, kick the dumpster out of the way, and open the door to see my team there. “It’s done,” I tell them.

They step out, surrounding me.

Putting the scalding dagger away, I flex my palm, feeling the tight skin. I wipe it on my jeans before I see the burn on my hand in the shape of the stones and ornate handle.

As I look at Black, I can’t help but chuckle. “You know, they say revenge doesn’t help, but I sure as shit feel a lot better.” I wipe my face on my sleeve before I pull my phone out and dial Shamus.

“It’s done. Cleanup at my location and also the one I will send you.” I hang up.

“Now what?” Ronan asks as he crouches before Black. “You know, he always seemed bigger. Maybe it’s the missing head.”

“This is just the beginning. They aren’t the only corrupt ones in the guild. It’s time we showed them what being a monster truly is,” I say.