Page 95 of Her Wicked Knights

"I fucked up." Whit admits, and his voice wavers a little as he does. "She got under my skin, became a drug. The more I had of her, the more I needed."

Mark snorts. "Well, you did fuck up. You chose a worthless bitch over your own flesh and blood, and what did you do with the power? You posed as a fucking therapist and worked a nine to five?"

"You could have had anything." Carson says. "And you chose to just stay here with her?"

"I'd have had a sea of pussy just waiting for my every whim if I was you." Nick laughs. "More money than the fucking queen. And I never would have worked another day in my goddamn life. But you?" He laughs. "You just stayed?"

I know it doesn't make sense to them. They weren't there hundreds of years ago, to fall in love with her the first time. They weren't there any of the other lifetimes to fall for her. But we were. Tripp, Rev, me... even Whit. And we fell harder in each life, I'm convinced.

"I needed her." Whit shrugs. "And I needed the power. Nothing else really mattered."

"I can't wait to find out what's so special about that golden pussy." Carson laughs. "Considering you chose her over everything, it must be out of this world."

I see Tripp bristling at the idea of Carson touching Marley, but it's the least of our concerns right now.

Once Whit's gone, Marley will come running home. She has no one else, and she'd be a fool to stay here alone when she has a stalker. Or three. She doesn't know that yet; I'm not sure she ever will. Once we've got her where we want her, we can worry about the rest of it.

Whit doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he looks to me, his eyes tracking the knife in my hand.

"This isn't necessary, you know." He tries, finally getting the sense to plead for his life... not that it will make a difference. It's too late for him. "We can go back, share her power, share her. We can-"

I don't hear whatever he says we can do, because his words are swallowed by a squelching breath when I drive the blade right into his chest.

He blinks in surprise, as if he didn't expect it, despite knowing we were coming. He's clearly accepted it, and yet, when it comes down to it, he's in disbelief.

His knees buckle before I even pull the knife out from between his ribcage. As Mark stabs him, he falls to his knees, trying to crawl away from us, like he stands a chance at getting free. I stabbed him in a very specific spot, and he's already struggling to breathe, his blood flooding his own lungs as he tries to survive.

Now he knows, if only for a short time, how it has felt to be without her for all this time. Now he knows what it's like to choke on things you can't put into words. He took her from us, and now we're taking his life.

It's a fitting end... particularly when Nick descends on him, getting in a stab that knocks him onto his stomach when Whit's arms collapse beneath him.

It turns into a frenzy. Tripp, Rev, Mark, Nick, Carson... they all go after him with a rage unlike anything I've seen from any of them. Unlike anything I've seen from anybody, except maybe once... the night Audrey died. Whit stabbed her too many times to count that night, and it was too much. I didn't love her, despite being her boyfriend. I'm not sure I ever even liked her. But it doesn't mean she deserved the brutality that she got in her final moments.

Whit, though? He deserves every second of it. I let them take out their grievances, let them turn him into nothing, let them damn near kill him.

But I stop them before he can take his last breath. I don't know why I do it. Maybe because I want this for me. Maybe because I want it for Marley's parents. Maybe because I want it for Audrey. Either way, I tell everyone to halt, and they do. Just like that, they cease their frenzy, and everyone falls away from him, giving me the chance to draw up to him as I pull off my mask.

His eyes are half-lidded as he takes me in, one bleeding hand pressed against one of the earlier wounds, hopeless to stop the blood gushing out between his fingers.

"I've killed men for less than what you've done." I tell him. "Maybe that's who I am. A killer. Maybe I'm just like you."

His lashes flutter, and his heaving chest begins to slow.

"All this time, you thought you were the king, hiding behind her for protection. But she doesn't need you. She never did."

I reach my hand out like I'm going to help him up, but instead, I raise it toward the ceiling. Whit's body follows the arc I create in the air until the ceiling stops him, his head lolling forward as I leave him there a minute, trapped in place, just so he knows what it's like to be trapped.

Blood drips from his mouth as he tries to find the breath to say something, but it doesn't matter. His words are just as useless as him.

When I bring my hand down to my side, Whit crashes to the floor, his blood splashing around us like a baptism. And in a way, that's exactly what it is. We died for Marley, and we killed for her.

Now, all that's left is to wait for her to come back for us.

Something tells me we won't have to wait very long.

And when she comes back? Well, there will be hell to pay for leaving us to begin with.

It's a debt she'll spend the rest of her life repaying, because I'm never letting her get away again.