Page 47

R.I.O.T

W hy can’t I do it? Why can’t I kill her?

She tried to kill Alissa. Seth almost died. She’s ready to kill me. And Reece… What did she do to Reece?

The night air is cold against my skin, biting at my face as I kneel on the rooftop.

The city stretches out beneath us in a sea of flickering lights.

She is so light in my arms… like she isn’t even real.

Her long white hair spills over my hands; a cascade of liquid silver that glows faintly in the moonlight, almost as if it doesn’t belong in this world.

The scene plays in my head with a cruel vividness. Haze—regal, cold, barely alive—had looked at me with an emptiness I am slowly beginning to hate . Her arms lay limp by her sides, her breathing shallow and uneven, as though each inhale is a battle she’s losing.

She should have been dangerous. She is dangerous. She'd nearly killed my friends—people I care about more than myself. She was going to kill my mate— again. And yet, in this moment, as I stand over her, my weapon drawn, I can’t do it.

I can’t fucking do it.

I can only give her pain. She doesn’t fight me when I do. Instead, she clings to me like I’m the lifeline saving her from drowning. Like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.

I stare down at her face—so still, so pale, like porcelain on the edge of cracking. Her breathing is shallow, barely there, her chest rising and falling in uneven, fragile patterns.

I should hate her. I want to. But as I look at her now, limp and unconscious, she doesn’t look evil. She doesn’t look dangerous. She just looks… broken.

I tighten my grip on her, the weight of my knife cold and heavy in my hand. I should finish it—right here, right now. It would be easy; one quick motion, and it would all be over. She wouldn't be a threat. My friends would be safe. She'd get her wish.

But I can’t move.

Her face is turned towards me, and there is something about the way her lips are parted, the way her eyebrows are faintly furrowed even in unconsciousness, like she’s lost in some nightmare she can’t wake up from. She looks… human. Vulnerable.

A gust of wind sweeps across the rooftop, catching her hair and brushing it against my arm. It feels soft, impossibly soft, like it shouldn't belong to someone who'd caused so much destruction. My chest tightens, and something bitter rises in my throat—anger, guilt, pity. I don’t know anymore.

I lower my head, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to steady the storm raging in my mind. My pulse thuds in my ears, drowning out the sound of the city below. I know what I should do. But as I open my eyes and look at her fragile frame cradled in my arms, I know I won’t. I can’t.

She looks so utterly defeated, like someone drowning in a sea too vast to fight, desperately reaching for something— anything —that might keep her afloat.

But there is nothing, because I can’t save her.

I won't save her. She's the enemy. The villain.

And I know if I don't kill her, she'll go back to planning, scheming, destroying what I have, the friends I've made, the kingdom I've built.

Not tonight. Not like this.

"Why are you hesitating?" My gaze snaps towards Damien, his silhouette moving within the shadows.

I raise a brow, watching him walk like a man dragged from his grave.

His frame is hunched and broken, his silhouette jagged and unnatural against the night.

"That's not like you, Hero. I thought you were the decisive type. "

I clench my jaw, my hands curling into fists to stop myself from adding any more damage to that ugly fucking face of his. "Did the damage to your head cause the neurons in your brain to misfire?" I narrow my gaze, my voice low. "You're supposed to be running."

Damien's silhouette stiffens in the shadows before he decides to step out into the light of the moon. Not that it made a difference to me. The darkness and I are one; nothing is hidden from me. I know exactly what damage I caused Damien.

One eye bulges grotesquely, its veins red and raw, darting with a restless, manic energy. The left side of his skull is caved inward, a sunken ruin that warped his face into a hideous, asymmetrical mask.

My gaze shifts to his body that is all twisted and wrong. His back is shattered, bent at a grotesque angle that forces him into a lurching, uneven gait. One leg trails uselessly behind him, scraping across the ground sounding like nails on stone.

"I see," I muse, "My Nightmare has quite the temper."

His lips twist into a snarl, his eyes flashing to the woman lying in my arms. I tighten my hold, almost instinctively, as his eyes snap to mine. "I want a deal."

"Fuck." I chuckle softly. "I did more damage than I thought."

Calmly— too calmly —I lay Nightmare down gently and rise. Damien takes a step back, the light catching his eyes. Wide. Wild. Nervous. "I-I didn't come here to—"

"Fight me," I interrupt, my tone ice-cold. "You think I care why you're here? If you're going to stay, then stay." I tilt my head and crack my knuckles. "I want to see if I can pop that eyeball out of your skull with a single hit."

"I'll break the loyalty bond between us," Damien blurts out, and I glare at him suspiciously.

"And why would you do that?" I say, and step closer. Slowly. Deliberately. The gravel beneath my boots crunches loudly in the suffocating silence. Each step pulls his muscles tight as his eyes dart behind me.

Damien raises his hand and points directly behind me—at Nightmare —and seethes, "Her."

I stiffen, a growl threatening to rise in my chest as Umbra wakes from his slumber. His eyes blink open and suffocate the air. My instincts tell me only one thing. Just one— kill.

Damien seems to sense the rising anger inside me, because the air around him cracks and screams; a sign he's about to run. But I get a hold of myself and ignore my instincts. "Why?"

"Punishment," he answers, "because she thinks she's above me. She thinks she's better than me. Smarter than me; I want to prove her wrong. I want her to kneel at my fucking feet. I want her to suffer."

I clench my fists, nails biting into my palms. Every instinct in me screams to tell him no, to find another way to kill this goddamn cockroach. But the reality is suffocating. As long as the Loyalty bond connects us, I can’t kill him—not here, not now, not ever.

I glance over my shoulder at her. The woman who killed Leila, who tried to kill my friends without hesitation, now lays at my feet like a broken doll. I don’t trust her. She’s dangerous. But handing her over to him? That feels like something I wouldn't be able to come back from.

"She tried to kill you," Damien says, as if he can sense my hesitation, "and she'll try again. Not just you, but your friends… Reece. Give her to me, and I'll even spare Reece."

That gets my attention, and I snap my gaze to Damien. The moonlight casts long shadows across his face, his grin stretching too wide, teeth bared like a predator about to lunge. He can sense it; he knows it—he has me.

"And Eden." His lips twist into a snarl, clearly in disagreement. But if he breaks the Loyalty bond, I can just kill him myself. "Then you can have her on my terms only."

"You're pushing your luck, Hero," Damien seethes, his voice a blade honed with disdain. "You should be grateful I'm even considering breaking the bond."

I meet his glare with one of my own, unflinching. "No, Quasimodo," I bite back, my voice razor-sharp. "You should be grateful you still have both your fucking eyes."

His muscles coil with barely restrained fury, but I don't give him time to retaliate. I press forward, my words a command that refuse to be ignored. "You'll take her on my terms."

Damien's jaw tenses, his teeth grinding against the words he doesn't want to speak. But after a beat, he exhales sharply, a venom-laced challenge spilling from his lips. "And what would those be?"

A slow, predatory smile tugs at my mouth. "General Dame Thorne will fight her soon," I drawl, letting the weight of my words settle between us. "If she wins, she's yours."

Damien throws his head back and laughs—low, cruel, and already triumphant. "She'll win, Hero. Even with the blessing of a God at his back, their Champion will never stand a chance against our kind."

The air thickens, charged with his simmering power. Shadows curl at the edges of his form as he smirks, something too wide, too certain. "You have your deal. I relinquish the bond of the floating castle and the loyalty I once owed to the Grand Arbiter."

The instant he speaks the words, I feel the bond shatter; a tether snapping somewhere deep in my soul. And just like that, Damien is gone, his voice the last thing lingering in the empty space he leaves behind.

"I'll be back."

The night presses in, cold and unrelenting, but I don't stop. I push forward, drawn back to her as if by some invisible force.

Nightmare lies still, and I crouch beside her. My fingers trail down her face, slow and deliberate, the gesture far gentler than anything I deserve to give.

"I know, Nightmare. You think I'm blind," I say, my breath is steady, and my touch unwavering. "You think I don't know what I am in your story… but I do. Your villain. Your captor. Your Nightmare— I know."

My voice drops lower, meant only for her.

"And do you want to know the most pitiful fact of all this?

No one will care what I did to you. No one will care that I took your control.

No one will care I enslaved you. Because you made yourself their villain…

and when they hear what I did tonight, they won't call it a crime—they'll call it justice. "