Page 152 of Executing Malice

I’ve never killed anyone before, but I think we covered everything.

From my pack, I unearth the hammer and a fistful of nails.

Dante drags the plank back into place and starts the process of hammering it shut once more.

I stand out of the way as he seals the well back up.

Then we simply stand over it, and I wonder if we’re supposed to say something. Monster or not, Everett was his brother. There has to be some feeling there.

“Are you okay?”

Eyes fixed on his brother’s final resting place, Dante shrugs. “I probably shouldn’t be.”

Carefully, I touch his arm. “It’s okay not to be okay, and okay to be okay. Whatever you’re feeling is correct.”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, turning his face finally to peer at me through the faint blue of twilight. “I feel nothing.”

With a sigh, I lean over and lightly brush my lips to his shoulder. “That’s okay, too.” I lift my head as another thought pokes in. “Are you upset with me for what I did?”

Strong arms band around me, and I’m drawn into his chest. “If I had to pick between you and him, who do you think I would pick?”

I nuzzle the hard expanse of his chest. “But—”

His long finger hooks beneath my chin and I’m forced to peer up through the dancing shadows to where his equally dark eyes cast a faint shine.

“You, Leila. I will always pick you.”

With another sigh, I drop my forehead against his collarbone and shut my eyes. I pray he’s right. I know I would not be so forgiving if anything happened to Reed, but Reed isn’t a monster. He’s not a stain on humanity. Maybe my feelings would be different if he was, and I guess that’s what makes a difference here.

Quietly, we gather up our things. Dante takes the pack with one hand and mine with the other and we gradually make our way back to the bottom and our waiting boat.

I hop in and wait for Dante to cast off. My gaze travels over the murky outline of the island. The opaque darkness seeping out from between the trees. I draw in a breath, chest heavy for the first time for what we’ve done.

What I did.

I killed a man. I did so without mercy or hesitation. It never even registered until my arms began to burn and the weight of the flashlight grew heavy in my slick grasp. His blood was still warm on my skin when I finally came back to myself. Yet, still no regrets.

My exhale is slow as I peer into the trees in the direction of the well. Deep in my soul, I actively try to gather a speck of remorse when I’m distracted by the faintest hint of movement in the tree line along the cliff’s edge above our heads. A subtle flicker of fabric caught in the wind. I think I see shapes, figure. Tendrils of hair coiling around thin shoulders. The glint of eyes glowing. Watching.

I suck in a scream, nearly give in when the boat gives a jolt and my concentration is broken. They’re gone when I search the spot again. The shoreline is empty with only the jagged rocks and trees to see us off. But the chill remains deep within my bones.

“You okay?” Dante asks softly.

My gaze never wavers from the island, never breaks contact, not even as we’re pushed off into open waters, I stay focused. Stay rooted to the feelings blooming in my chest.

Peace.

Calm.

The fear and surprise are replaced with a strange sense of acceptance that only fuels my confidence.

The witches of Jefferson understand. They get it. Bad things happen to bad people. Justice was served. A justice they never received. I protected myself and Dante. They get that. They will keep my secret. I feel it to my core.

Despite the weight of the last twenty-four hours, the exhaustion and the drop of adrenaline, I grin up at the spot and relax as we drift away.

EPILOGUE

LEILA