Page 58 of Her Wicked Knights (Their Hallowed Queen #3)

Colton

Dying wasn't as bad as I expected. It was quick; like going to sleep. I'd just closed my eyes when they were opening again, and I was reborn. Like the mythical phoenix rising from the ashes, each of us has been made new, exactly as we were... with one key difference.

Whit's hold over us is gone. His magic is fractured, the bond that linked us all now severed.

And I'm sure he can feel it. I can feel it, Tripp can, Rev can.

It's like being lighter, no longer carrying around his curse.

He was never meant to be tied in with us; from the start, he betrayed us.

.. her. He thought he could take everything from her and then throw her to the wolves.

He didn't realize we are the wolves. Tripp, Rev, and I.

He underestimated us from the very start, centuries ago, and it's caused us all to suffer in perpetuity.

.. until now. Now, all that suffering finally is going to come down on him.

He's no longer linked to us, and now we can kill him.

We didn't tell the others how we did it; we still haven't told them about the past, the lives we've lived or how Marley divested her magic to us long, long ago.

We just couldn't use it because we didn't know it was there until Whit came along.

But they've noticed that they're free now, too, and they deserve their chance at revenge almost as much as the rest of us.

It's why we're all here... really here this time.

No projecting, no illusions, just a quick drive and some masks to hide our identities.

We all had those already. And I'm doing Whit one better, because I brought the very mask he wore when he killed Audrey and terrorized Marley.

He'll know who we are once we're securely in his office, but no one else will. The cameras won't catch anything.

The medical building's main door is still unlocked when we let ourselves in, but there's no one anywhere to be seen.

The receptionist's desk is empty, but I follow the directional sign behind it to the office where Whit's been hiding in plain sight for the last three years, pretending to be her fucking therapist so he could be close to her.

It's diabolical, and the worst part is that if I could have gotten away with it, I would have done the same thing.

He's had her to himself all this time and we've had nothing but each other.

I'm grateful for that, and I love Tripp and Rev like brothers, but they're a shitty consolation prize compared to her.

I let Audrey run around on me while holding up the guise that we were a real couple who actually cared about one another just for the chance to be close to Marley, so I can't exactly blame him.

But I also can't forgive him... not for taking her from us this time or even the first time.

And now, centuries of death and misery are finally going to come to an end.

There's a soft ding as the elevator spits us out on the fourth floor, and I scan the hallway for cameras.

Whit taught us how to manipulate them when he did it the night we killed Audrey.

It's almost funny how easy it is to splice a digital timeline when you have the power in your blood to do it.

All it takes is intent... that's half of what magic is.

It isn't spells and potions, the way the movies always made me believe.

It's creating the circumstance you want by divine will.

.. manifestation. The universe bends to appease the magic in me, and with it, there's so much possibility.

Our deaths have unleashed the chains Whit had on us, and now there's virtually no limit to what we can do.

But all I want is her. I'll do whatever it takes to have her.

.. I'll always do whatever it takes for her.

Nick and Carson flank Mark's right as he walks in stride with me.

I let him, because despite how much I still want to break his fingers for touching Marley that night in the haunted house, he's justified in helping us take Whit down.

It's his own cousin, after all. That betrayal must hurt on a different level.

Tripp and Rev are to my left, just behind me.

And we're all in costume, just as we were that night.

Whit's receptionist must have locked the door on her way out, just ten minutes prior.

We watched her go, wiping her smudged lipstick, before making our move.

Fortunately, it doesn't take much effort to open the door.

I just place my fingers against the solid wood and a moment later, the lock scrapes in the knob, and the door pops open.

The waiting room is predictably empty, the lights off, and everything is still. But just down the hall, a sliver of light beneath the door illuminates where I know Whit is waiting for us.

I don't expect him to go easily. It's the other reason why we looped in the others for this.

There's strength in numbers, and while I don't particularly like any of them, it helps to have them to counteract whatever tricks Whit may have up his sleeve.

He's far more experienced than any of us with magic, and I expect he'll go to every length to try and survive like the damn cockroach he is.

But my expectations don't align with reality when I open the door to his office and find him sitting in his leather chair, his back toward us. All I can see is the top of his head as he stares out the window, the moon that seems so close.

"So, you found me." He says, as easily as if it were just a simple, boring game of hide and seek.

We split paths, Mark, Nick, and Carson taking the left of his desk to approach as we take the right.

"We found you." I agree.

From the new angle, I can see his profile, the light from outside lighting him up just enough to see that he looks oddly calm. That disappears, turning to a laugh, when he finally looks at me.

"Nice mask. Is that a commentary on how you're the ringleader now?"

"Ringleader?" I laugh, too. "I don't want to lead anything. I just thought you may prefer this to be the last thing you see before you die."

"How thoughtful." He rolls his eyes, turning to face me dead on now. "I don't suppose I can talk you out of this?"

"Not happening." Mark says, closing in from behind him. "You betrayed us, Whit. You trapped us in that town like we were nothing. And you never would have looked back."

"I did." Whit sighs. "I've done a lot of looking back these last few months, reflecting. I could feel you coming for a while, even before you broke into my house."

"Broke into your house?" Mark shakes his head. "What are you talking about?"

Whit looks from his cousin, standing there in his WHAT MASK, and then to me. "Ah. I see. A camp divided, huh?"

Nobody speaks. Whit just shakes his head, smirking as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey on his desk and tips it against his lips.

I let him, because the least I can do for him tonight is let him go feeling just a little drunk.

He looks like he's had a hard day. Fortunately for him, it's about over.

"All this for her." Whit says finally, setting the bottle back down on the desk and focusing his attention on me again. "I'd ask if she's worth it, but I know she is."

"You fell for that little harlot?" Carson laughs. "I thought you were just using her for her magic."

"I did." He nods. "But it turned into something more, somewhere along the way."

"Spare us the part about your epic love story that's about to be cut short. I don't care."

"Not a love story." Whit laughs, looking longingly at the bottle before deciding to pick it up and help himself to another healthy sip. "A tragedy."

That gets a laugh from Tripp. It's a real one, deep and uncontrolled as he clearly found something funny about that.

"A tragedy?" He manages, between fits of laughter. "I'm sorry."

It's quiet for a minute while Tripp tries to compose himself.

"What do you know about tragedy?" Rev asks finally. "Tell the class, Whit, what you know about loss and love."

"I know nothing about love." Whit laughs too now, but it's a sad sound, hollow as him. "That's what's tragic. No one will mourn me when you do this. Not even her."

"Especially not her." I assure him. "I've seen how you treat her. We've all seen it."

It's technically not true, but he doesn't have to know that Mark and his cronies aren't as in the know as we're letting on.

"Obsession isn't love." Rev says coolly.

"And your abuse isn't therapy." Tripp snaps, his voice harder as he closes the distance to where Whit is standing, his hands half in his pockets as he nods his agreement. We all move closer now, ringing him in. I don't trust him not to try and pull something.

"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.