Page 221 of Jagged Souls

Ihateher.

Moving past her, I head for the stairs. She calls my name, so much hurt in her voice. Varius lingers to talk to her. Just for a moment. Just a sentence, maybe two, then he’s back by my side.

My throat tightens as I glance at him, wondering if he’s judging me. She’s my own fucking sister, and I can’t bear to look at her.

But there’s nothing negative that comes down our bond. Just love.

The same love he pushed into me when I tortured him. When he believed I was going to kill him.

When I did kill him in order to give Maddox a way out, for his Craving to activate, and so I could distract Antonio.

So many reasons…

But it doesn’t justify what I did to him.

It doesn’t make it okay.

“I’m sorry,”I want to say.

But Grubs’ memories shove into me, making me mute.

“I love you,” Varius murmurs, and I realize he can feel my guilt, my sorrow, no words needed between us.

My chest tight, overwhelmed by everything he means to me, I say, “I love you too.”

His bedroom door looms large in front of us.

Taking a deep breath, I twist the handle and step inside.

He leads me to his bedside table, where she lies on a torn piece of shirt. Nothing more than a smeared blob of red, and I drop to my knees on a silent cry.

I want to scream for all the injustice.

I want to resurrect Antonio so he can keep telling me lies about how he can bring her back.

I want to believe them.

I want to believe them so fucking hard.

But I know she’s never coming home.

Reaching out a shaky hand, I pick up the slip of fabric and cradle her to my chest. My husband kneels beside me.

The silence thickens the air around us, cocooning us in a shared grief. I shake as he cries. I scream inside but feel too hollow to let it out.

The world still spins, but I feel as if it’s stopped inside of me.

“I was thinking…” Varius says softly, breaking through to me, his voice rough with tears. “That we could tattoo her ashes on us.”

I lift my head in shock. “You’re not going to take her into your shadows?” It’s their Family custom.

“She’s your child too,” he murmurs, looking into my eyes. I sob, sagging forward, and now my tears come freely. I nod rapidly, with my whole heart. His hand touches me, asking permission, and I lean into him as I struggle to breathe. He moves to wrap his arms around me, then cradles me tight to his chest as I hold our little girl.

“She needs a name,” I say between my sobs, so damn desperate to give her that at least.

“I’ve been calling her Bambi.”

I choke on a cry. “I call her Rafiki.”