Page 38 of Redamancy (Fated Fixation #2)

Chapter thirty

E dward Ellis collapses, blood spurting from his glass-embedded neck, and I stick around just long enough to make sure it’s a fatal wound.

And then I bolt.

To little surprise, the party is over, the halls empty of everyone—even Adrian. Panic clogs my lungs.

Out of commission, Edward’s words echo through my head. If his mother did his job correctly.

The words didn’t register then, but now—

The cellar.

It doesn’t take me long to find the stairwell, located just off the kitchen—and I barely resist the urge to fly down the stairs.

What if she’s still down there with him?

Weapon, I think. You need a weapon.

I grab what’s closest—a flour-coated rolling pin still lying on the counter—and descend the darkened stairs.

It’s so dark that I have to use the railing to guide me, barely able to make out the step below me.

Adrenaline courses through me.

She’s a sixty-year-old woman, and I’ve got a rolling pin.

Even if she hears me, I’ve got the advantage.

Still, I try to be quiet, careful not to step too heavily or let my panicked breath shake too loudly.

The smell of damp earth becomes stronger as I near the bottom and— woah.

I’m not expecting the space to be so large, but the arched, dimly lit corridor looks like a tunnel carved straight out of the bedrock. There are racks of wine bottles on either side, all sheathed in dust.

I peer down the corridor.

Where is he?

Could they have gone somewhere else?

And then I hear the clink of a chain.

My stomach plummets, and I’m running, rolling pin tucked under my arm, with no plan, no idea but—

Adrian.

He’s the first thing I see when I burst through the corridor. He’s standing with back to me, so I can’t tell—

But he’s standing.

My body sings with relief.

“Adrian!”

He turns, his chest heaving with exertion, and with a feral gleam in his eyes as he crushes me into his chest.

The rolling pin clatters to the floor, and I nearly choke on my relief. “You’re okay,” I gasp, and I pull back just enough to look at him. “You’re okay.”

I don’t hear whatever he murmurs back, not with his nose buried in my neck.

I card my fingers through his curls anxiously—but pause when something wet coats my fingers. “You’re bleeding,” I realize, and I pull back to assess him for the source of the wound. “On the back of your head.”

Fuck.

“I’m fine,” he says, and he tries to tug me close again. “Superficial. She tried to smash a wine bottle over my head, but it only nicked me.”

And it’s only now, as Adrian is speaking, that I realize we aren’t alone.

“You cannot leave me down here,” Mary Ellis seethes, makeup smeared and blue eyes wild, as she crouches on the floor. “Not in the dirt.” She tries to rise, but the short, rusty chain strapped to her ankle prevents her from doing so.

“What happened?” I breathe, my eyes darting between the two.

“She tried to drug me the same way she did when I was a kid,” he says, pausing only long enough to glare at her.

“But obviously, she didn’t account for the fact that I’m not five-years-old anymore.

The dosage wasn’t strong enough. She managed to lead me down here, but the effects wore off pretty quickly. ”

“Adrian,” Mary hisses. “Do not—”

Adrian ignores her, eyes narrowing. “I need to deal with my father. He’s still—”

I shake my head. “He’s dead.”

His eyes light with surprise, Mary gasps with horror, and it’s only now that I realize what I’ve done.

I’ve killed someone.

Not in self-defense, not by accident—in clear premeditation.

About five seconds of premeditation, but still.

The realization doesn’t bring the world-shattering guilt I’d expect it to. In fact, it’s—

Nothing.

I feel nothing about killing Adrian’s father.

“How?” Adrian breathes, as if he can’t believe it either.

“There was some glass to the throat,” I tell him.

“He cornered me in the study and tried to convince me to go to the press and expose you to the world. I’m guessing that’s why—” I glance at Mary.

“—she was trying to get you out of the way for a while. So that he could enact whatever plan he wanted.”

His jaw clenches. “Most likely.”

Mary Ellis doesn’t confirm or deny anything, but when she sees us heading for the mouth of the corridor, she screams. “Adrian! You can’t—”

“Don’t worry,” Adrian’s mouth curves as he turns to look at her. “I’m just giving you some time to think about what you did.”

She shouts the entire time we ascend the stairs, but when Adrian closes the door, and her screams are trapped within the cellar.

He leans forward, kisses my forehead, and murmurs, “I love you.”

And for the first time, I don’t question if he means it.

I don’t worry that his affection is secretly turning to disgust, or that he’s seen too much.

I just feel seen.

“Let’s go home,” he sighs.

I blink up at him. “But don’t we have to—”

He shakes his head. “I’ll have someone handle it discreetly,” he says.

“Make it look like an accident. House fire, maybe.” His eyes flit over the historic brownstone.

“Or car accident.” There’s no sadness in his voice, nothing to signal he’s distraught over his dead father—and soon-to-be dead mother.

“That sounds…easy,” I say.

“Things are exceedingly easy now. In every way.” He shrugs, but his eyes are full of triumph. “I’m not subject to the whims of my father. I don’t need to handle my mother.”

Realization sinks in. “So, you own…everything. All of it?”

He cups my face. “No, sweetheart. We own everything.”