Page 21 of Kingdom of Chaos (Creatures of Chaos #2)

I may not have magic, but I’ve spent years turning my body into a weapon.

A glint of gold catches my eye and I reach into the bag, pulling out a pair of brass knuckles.

I’ve never used them before. With the right aim, they can do serious damage, the kind of brutality I’ve always tried to avoid.

But something tells me that’s about to change in this new world.

“I thought you might like those,” Talon says with a smirk.

“Take this too,” he says, reaching into the duffel and fishing out a dagger.

The blade is wavy and roughly a foot long.

I can’t help but notice how similar it is to Shadow Striker.

I look at Talon as I take the weapon with a question in my eyes.

“You need to learn how to use it.”

I balk. “Why?”

Talon shrugs. “Just in case.”

I shake my head and try to give Talon the blade back. “No. I never want to touch that cursed dagger again.”

He glances down at the wavy-bladed dagger but doesn’t take the weapon. “We don’t know what’s going to happen over there. You should be prepared.”

“Prepared to face Kerrim?”

He looks up and his blue-gray gaze is piercing. “Maybe. Shadow Striker is rightfully yours. I think if we find the blade, it will recognize you as its wielder.”

I drop the weapon at Talon’s feet, shaking my head. “I’d rather die than touch it again.”

“You may not have a choice.”

Talon and I have a silent faceoff, neither one of us willing to budge. It’s only when Imogen interrupts us by reaching over, snatching the blade and saying, “Well, if you don’t want it,” that I realize just how quiet the room has gotten.

Embarrassed, I turn and grab one of the backpacks, busying myself with storing the brass knuckles and pretending to look through the contents even though I know all the packs have similar items inside.

The mood turns somber after that. Talon and Imogen finish off the last of the cold pizza, then we all turn in.

We’ve rented adjoining rooms. Talon and Titus take one, and us girls the other.

Ensley and I share a double bed. Imogen may be small, but neither of us wants to sleep next to her.

I even insist we keep the door between rooms open.

I’m not comfortable being in an enclosed space with her.

Imogen’s just as likely to slit my throat as look at me.

That might be extreme, but I don’t trust the morally ambiguous vampire who clearly blames me for everything.

It’s a long time before sleep takes me, but when it finally does, it pulls me under, sinking its dark claws into my mind and latching on, making me wish I’d never succumbed.

Sloan’s diner is busy as usual, the booths filled with patrons, their chatter a steady hum in the background.

The scent of grilled onions and stale coffee hangs in the air as Becks, sitting beside me, cracks a joke that makes me smile.

The jukebox in the corner hums with an old rock ballad, and Ensley steals some of Becks’ fries when he’s not looking and passes one off to Titus.

I’m happy. My chest full of contentment, like everything is exactly as it should be. I’m with my friends. We’re having a good time. We’re all safe.

And yet, even as I think it, a slow unease begins to coil in my gut. A sense of wrongness that grows more insistent with each passing moment.

Ensley’s laugh is too loud. Beck’s smile too bright. And Titus has never come with us to Sloan’s. Why is he here now?

My own smile falters as the unease curdles into dread.

The fluorescent bulbs overhead stutter and dim, bathing the diner in a sickly, unnatural hue.

Conversations fade. The warmth seeps from the air.

And when I look up, I see him.

Kerrim.

He’s standing in the doorway. Unassuming, with his glasses perched on his nose and salt-and-pepper hair brushed back off his forehead. He looks exactly like I remember him, but every part of me recoils.

His gaze sweeps the restaurant, the once-friendly glint in his eyes sharpening into something cold and shrewd when they land on mine. Then slide to Becks.

“No,” I breathe, scrambling to stand. But my limbs don’t obey. My legs won’t move. My voice barely carries.

Becks doesn’t seem to realize anything is wrong. He’s still facing me as Kerrim crosses the dining room toward us, each step echoing sharply in the sudden silence. Shadow Striker appears in his hand, black and humming with power.

I try to scream, to warn him, to move, to do anything, but I’m frozen.

Kerrim plunges the blade into Becks’ back and the tip punches through his chest. His warm blood sprays across my own, hot and jarring .

Becks’ mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes wide with pain and disbelief as he slips from the booth. Blood spills across the checkered floor, soaking into the seams between tiles as the crimson pool spreads beneath him.

He looks at me like I’m the one who drove the blade into his back, his gaze heavy with hurt and betrayal.

My breath catches. My heart shatters.

And then ? —

He changes.

Blond hair darkens. His jaw sharpens. It’s not Becks lying there anymore.

It’s Talon.

His bloodied hand twitches on the floor. He lifts his head just enough for our eyes to meet, and there’s nothing but pain in his gaze.

Chilled laughter fills the air as Kerrim stands over him, bloodied dagger still clutched in his fist.

Hate surges through me, burning hot, mixing with the horror already twisting in my soul.

I scream Talon’s name—finally able to move, to speak—but the moment I do, the diner crumbles around us like ash in the wind.

And I wake.

Heart pounding.

Sheets tangled.

The echo of Kerrim’s laughter still ringing in my ears like a curse.

Amazingly, my thrashing didn’t wake Ensley, but I can’t fall back asleep. I don’t want to. Too scared I’ll be faced with gruesome scenes of a deranged Kerrim plunging Shadow Striker into the chests of everyone I know and care about.

After tonight, I know one thing for sure: whatever affection I might have once had for the former shop owner was burned away the moment he slammed the dagger through Becks’ chest, leaving only hate in my heart for him.

Just after dawn, I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom, head low as I try to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. Talon’s anguish, Kerrim’s sadistic glee, and worst of all, Becks’ face, twisted with pain and betrayal, won’t leave me.

I grab my toothbrush and notice my hand shaking.

It wasn’t real, but my body doesn’t know that.

It takes longer than it should to wash my face and brush my teeth, and when I step out of the bathroom, Imogen and Ensley are already in the guys’ room.

I shove my essentials into my new backpack and get ready to go, but I’m no calmer than when I woke.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. Three counts in through my nose. Three counts out through my mouth. Again. And again.

I don’t know what we’re walking into today, but I need my head on straight. If I’m distracted, someone could get hurt. Or worse. I have to shelve the panic clawing at my insides. Becks will have to wait until we’re through that gate. Until then, I need to lock down my heart and stay sharp.

“You all right?”

I open my eyes to find Talon standing in front of me, dressed in a fitted black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hands shoved in his pockets as he studies me.

The nightmare vision of him lying on the ground, bleeding from the same wound Kerrim inflicted on Becks, flashes through my mind, but I force it away.

“I’m fine,” I say, standing and slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

I move to pass him, but he shifts subtly, blocking my path. I glance up, eyebrows raised, hoping he’ll take the hint. I don’t have the energy to spar with him right now. But he just folds his arms and meets my eyes with quiet determination.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Thanks,” I say tartly, my defenses going up.

Talon’s gaze softens. “That wasn’t meant as an insult. You just seem off. Upset, maybe. Or spooked. I don’t know. You’re hard to read.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Me? Hard to read?”

He lets out a short laugh. “Yeah. A total enigma. Is it the gate? Are you worried we won’t find it?”

I shake my head. “No. I mean, maybe a little. But that’s not it. I just had a rough night.”

He nods like he gets it, even though I haven’t offered any explanation. “He’s going to be okay,” he says quietly, knowing without me having to say that I’m upset about Becks.

Up until now Talon has always been in the he probably didn’t make it camp, so hearing him say that is unexpected.

“I didn’t think you actually believed Becks was still alive.” I get a pang in my chest just suggesting it.

Talon looks away, exhaling a long breath. When his gaze finds mine again, it’s shadowed with something unreadable. Not quite sadness, but close. “Your princeling’s strong. If anyone could survive that, it’s him. And he has you waiting for him. That kind of hope . . . it matters.”

He lifts a hand like he’s going to touch my cheek, and for a second my heart skitters, but he stops short and lets it drop. “What better motivation is there than that?”

I shake my head, throat tightening. “No. He thinks I betrayed him. That I chose you over him. He probably hates me.”

A faint smile tugs at Talon’s mouth, but there’s no light in it. “Becks could never hate you. Yeah, he was shocked when he saw us together. I won’t deny that. But the way he broke through that shield to get to you during the last trial? He knew. Deep down, he had to know you still cared.”

I start to protest, but Talon gently cuts me off. “Trust me. He knows.”

My eyes sting, tears welling despite every effort to hold them back. “Do you really think so?” I whisper, his words a balm on a wound I’ve been trying to ignore.

Talon nods. “I do.”

A single tear slips free, sliding down my cheek. Talon shifts closer and catches it with the pad of his thumb, gently wiping it away.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he murmurs. “I’d do anything to take that pain from you.”

When I look into his eyes, my breath catches. I see the truth in his gaze. His eyes are telling me that if he could take away my sorrow, he would move heaven and hell to do so.

I don’t know how to feel about that. Or maybe I do, but I’m too afraid to admit it.

“Talon,” I breathe, barely aware of the word leaving my lips.

I take a small, uncertain step forward, drawn to him by some invisible thread. For one reckless second I just want to let go, to sink into him, let his arms be the place where I can finally collapse, just for a moment, just so I don’t have to carry it all alone.

He reads me instantly.

His hands find my arms and gently guide me the rest of the way.

I don’t resist. I press into him, and his arms encircle me as if they were always meant to.

He doesn’t speak right away, just draws me in and rests his chin lightly against the top of my head.

One hand strokes up and down my back. Soothing, steady.

Softly, he whispers into my hair, “It’s going to be all right. You don’t have to do this alone.”

A quiet sob slips out before I can stop it, and a tear warms my cheek. Talon pulls me tighter, like he’s holding the pieces of me together when I can’t do it myself.

His fingers trail gently into my hair, and then he tips my face up. His eyes search mine—troubled, intense, unguarded.

“Don’t cry,” he says, his voice rough. His thumb brushes away the tear. “I can’t bear it.”

I stare up at him, overwhelmed. My emotions are a tangled, riotous mess, guilt and sorrow crashing against something softer, warmer, I don’t want to name. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I’m desperate for comfort. Or maybe it’s more than that.

I part my lips, unsure what I even mean to say, when Imogen’s voice slices through the moment from the adjoining room.

“What’s taking so long?”

The spell shatters.

Talon’s jaw tightens as he shoots an annoyed glance toward the open doorway. “Just a minute,” he calls back, voice clipped.

I slip out of his arms and cross into the next room without looking back.

It’s only once I pass the threshold that the strange fluttering low in my stomach starts to fade. I tell myself it meant nothing. That I’m vulnerable. Talon happened to be there when I needed someone. That’s all.

But deep down, a quiet voice whispers that I’m running out of ways to lie to myself.