Page 19 of In Death’s Hands (The Threads of Fate #1)

“Oh God oh God oh God.” Nathan is a dead weight on top of me. No! Not dead. Not a dead weight. I try to push him off to examine him more closely but—

“What the fuck?”

I freeze. A man’s voice, and it wasn’t Nathan.

“He’ll know what it’s for,” says another man, voice seething with anger.

I hear footsteps approach, and my panic is a tidal wave ready to drown me.

I try to breathe through it, but with Nathan on top of me I can’t get a full breath down.

My eyes water at the pressure on my body, in my head as my thoughts swirl.

They stabbed Death’s assistant, so what exactly are they going to do to me?

Are they part of the Novensiles? Were they waiting here for us? How did they know we’d be here?

I whimper as I hear more shuffling, and suddenly, I can breathe. The blood rushes to my head and black spots block my vision. Nathan’s body is dragged off mine, and from the thud I hear, dumped rather unceremoniously next to me.

“Hello there,” says the second voice, with a familiar accent I can’t quite place.

I blink a few times until I can take in my surroundings, and new opponents, but what I see has my eyes widen as I stay rooted to my spot on the ground.

I should get up. I should get the knife Nathan gave me and start swinging.

But all I do is stare at the two men facing me with different degrees of curiosity on their faces.

They are wearing only swimming shorts with Hawaiian patterns and leaves on them.

Their torsos are sleek and well defined, adorned with many tattoos of waves and turtles and tribal-looking symbols.

They look like what I’d imagine Californian surfers to look like.

Or maybe Hawaiian people? The taller one, arms bulging as they cross atop his torso, has skin so dark his tattoos look like an inherent part of him, while the other, who is currently bending over me, head cocked to the side like I’m a puzzle he’d love to solve, is as white-skinned as I am.

The grin the tall man gives me is akin to that of a predator who’s found a new toy to play with and devour, so I focus on the one closer to me.

Which may be a mistake judging by the crinkle in his eyes.

I crawl back a bit to create space between us before finally jumping to my feet.

“Who are you?” I look between them again as I put my hand atop the dagger at my thigh.

The man closest to me straightens with a heavy sigh, as if inconvenienced by the whole thing.

The taller man tracks my movement but doesn’t make a move, a clear sign that he doesn’t take me as a threat.

And why would he? Even compared to the smaller man, I am but a frail female.

At least in his eyes—but he doesn’t know I’ve kicked men bigger than him down to the mat before.

His smile widens as he sees the challenge in my eyes, and my heart throws a fit.

“Who are you?” I ask again, more forcefully.

“I think, sweet thing, the question is who are you ?” answers the man closest to me.

I shake my head, not wanting to waste time on this nonsense. I grab my dagger and point it at them, ignoring the amused glances they throw one another.

Keeping an eye on them, I move to Nathan and touch his face, ignoring how cold it feels.

My shaky hands reach for the dagger but stop short.

I can’t take it out. I’ve seen on TV that you shouldn’t take it out.

But how do I know that’s actually true? I want to curse myself for not being a doctor, but it’s a waste of time.

A waste of my thoughts that can’t grasp on to any sort of idea except that I need him to wake up.

“Nathan.”

No response.

The two men keep looking at me, not making any move to attack again.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, my eyes going back and forth between Nathan’s too-pale face and theirs.

“He deserved it,” says the smaller man.

I choke. “No one deserves that ,” I say, feeling entirely hypocritical when I’d have been all too happy to stab my attackers the other night.

“Oh, trust me, he’ll understand.”

“ If he ever wakes up! ” I shout.

The taller man in the back, who’s stayed quiet up till now, chuckles. “He’ll wake up.” He gives a nod to the other man, who steps forward, entirely ignoring how close my dagger is to his throat, and before I can so much as think about swinging the weapon, he pulls the knife out of Nathan’s back.

I’m left speechless, mouth opening and closing in shock. My own dagger clatters to the ground as I scramble to Nathan’s body, sure I’m going to find a bleeding wound and witness his last breaths.

But when I look, there is no blood. I frantically pull his shirt up and… find nothing. No blood, no wound. Not. A. Thing.

A strange sound comes out of me. What—Did… did I dream it all?

I hear a groan and Nathan moves slightly. A sob breaks out of me, and I think that maybe Nathan was right and the shock he’s been waiting for is finally happening. Tears streak down my cheeks as he gets up. Slowly and groaning all the way, but alive .

His eyes are full of confusion when they lock with mine.

I see exactly when everything comes back to him.

His eyes widen and shadows swirl at his feet.

In less time than it takes for me to blink, he’s standing in front of me, my forgotten dagger in his hand as he growls at the two men still looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

“What did you two fucks do?”

The smaller man grins as he answers, “Only what I promised long ago.”

Nathan’s shadows, which were growing and slithering forward, seem to pause at that. “I told you there was nothing I could do.” His voice is low, somehow heavy with regret. So heavy that the dagger lowers slowly, as if he accepts this nonsense.

I’m about to push past him to do something I’m sure is stupid when I’m once again stopped in my tracks as the taller man drawls, “Enough of this, we came for the girl you promised.”