Page 40 of Savage Sacrifice (The Savage Six #4)

POLARIS

“ H ow?” Asher blurts immediately, making my heart surge even faster.

I feel like I can’t breathe, just like every other time I’ve been in this man’s presence. His energy radiates around the room, dominating everything, but for the first time, there’s an edge of desperation.

He’s an enigma, a true mystery hidden deep beneath layers of leather and his monstrous mask.

I’m never going to understand him or his actions, but I’m desperate to understand how this man knows the things that he does.

It’s like he’s got cameras everywhere, or spies lurking around every corner. Maybe even both.

The elongated nose of his mask leans from side to side as he tilts his head, really assessing Asher, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Not because of his intense presence, but because I can sense the shift in Asher.

He was right. I’ve never known Asher to be wrong, but it’s just been proven in this moment. The Crow always knows what to offer to get you to do his bidding. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s willing to take whatever deal The Crow has to offer for that knowledge.

We all know this is vital, but having it within reach is something else. It once again attaches the invisible puppetry strings to Asher’s limbs, making him forever The Crow’s minion.

“What’s the deal?” Asher reiterates when The Crow doesn’t offer any insight.

I bring my free hand to his arm, squeezing just as tightly as my fingers are laced with his.

“Asher,” I breathe, but he doesn’t turn to me. It’s as if he doesn’t hear me.

The Crow smirks, fueling the rage inside of me because he knows he’s causing tension; he likely thrives on it.

“I said, what’s the deal?” Asher bites, desperate for the knowledge, and The Crow rocks back on his heels.

In a last-ditch attempt to interject and give Asher a moment to actually think this through, I try to take a step forward, but Asher makes it impossible with his vice-like grip. Rolling my eyes, I wag a finger in The Crow’s direction.

“I think I want the long story now.”

The Crow snickers. “Too late, sunshine. Maybe another day,” he rasps, and Asher snarls.

“The deal, Crow,” he bites, irritation rippling from him in waves.

“Hmm… maybe a little story would help,” he offers, and Asher growls, baring his teeth.

“Stop fucking around.”

The Crow pays him no mind as his entire demeanor relaxes. He taps at his chin in thought before his eyes widen and he glances between us.

“How does it go again? ‘When the sun bleeds gold and the moon weeps red, six souls shall rise where old hearts have bled. Bound by blood and fate’s cruel thread, they’ll walk the path where memories tread.

Each must yield what none would give, so others lost may learn to live.

In sacrifice, their truths will burn, and from that fire, hope shall return.

One heals the wound, one bears the pain, one breaks the past, one weaves the chain.

One guards the light, one walks the shade—together whole, or all shall fade.

Gone be the kin and the cursed decree, as love prevails for eternity.

Under blackened skies and twisted tradition, a world once lost shall be forgiven. ’ That’s it, right?”

“How do you know that?” I blurt, the worry running through my veins thrumming with anticipation, and he shrugs.

“How do I know many things?” He gives me his infamous head tilt, making my nostrils flare with anger.

“Fuck your riddles. Get out,” I snap, but it’s as if he doesn’t hear me as he proceeds.

“‘In sacrifice, their truths will burn, and from that fire, hope shall return. One heals the wound.’ Hmm… now, let’s think, who might that reference? Ah, maybe… Blaze?”

My heart all but stops. My pulse thunders in my ears as every nerve ending fizzles on the edge of my sanity. He’s got us exactly where he wants us, and the shady grin on his lips only confirms it because that would reference Blaze, when he healed Tatum’s wound.

“What else? ‘One bears the pain.’” His words hang in the air for what feels like an eternity as he stares at me.

Every breath I take confirms it, but I don’t say a word, I can’t.

“That would be our feisty little ball of sunshine right here. She died to sacrifice herself for her blood kin. She felt the pain to save her friend.” He almost sounds taunting, but I can only heave each breath into my lungs.

It takes all of my energy, leaving nothing left to give this asshole a piece of my mind.

“Now, ‘one breaks the past.’ Any guesses?” He opens his hands out wide, encouraging us to partake in his charade.

“Lincoln,” Asher grunts, and The Crow claps his hands three times, obnoxiously loud, before he nods.

“Ding, ding, ding. One point to you, Asher. So, the only other person who has sacrificed to change a coin is Tatum. What do you think he did? Weave the chain, guard the light, or walk the shade?”

I know the answer instantly.

“He walked the shade,” I whisper, and The Crow’s manic grin turns my way. “He walked the shade by killing your right-hand man,” I add, wanting to drive the point home, but he doesn’t seem mad or angry.

“He did exactly as I wanted him to, Polaris. Don’t you forget it.”

I frown, recalling that night entirely differently, but before I can push him on it, his focus is back on Asher. “Which leaves the choice to guard the light or weave the chains. One of them is for you. Can you guess which?”

Asher’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at the man who has tormented him for so long. “You’re going to have to tell me,” he grunts.

The Crow steps closer, until they’re almost toe to toe, with the tip of his mask a mere millimeter from Asher’s face. “Wield the chain, Asher. Take my mask.”

“Your mask?” I blurt in confusion, my hold on Asher somehow managing to grow tighter as I cling to him for dear life.

“Wield the chain,” The Crow repeats, taking his top hat off to reveal waves of brown hair.

“Asher, wait,” I whisper as The Crow discards the hat without a second glance, offering a better glimpse of the mask that rests on his face, and I quickly realize there’s no strap around the back. It’s almost as if… it’s a part of him, melded to the skin around his face.

“Do it, Asher,” he encourages, making me bite back a scream of exasperation.

“Asher, please,” I state louder, turning to give my wolf my full attention, but when his eyes find mine, I know he’s already made his decision.

“I love you, Silver. All forms, remember?”

My heart aches. “Asher,” I breathe, terror coiling through my veins as he tries to pull his hand free of mine. I hold on with all my strength, but even as it unravels in slow motion, there’s no stopping it.

Asher uses his free hand, lifting it toward the mask. He hasn’t even asked him what the other end of the bargain is; he’s going in blind. The moment his hand is near The Crow’s face, the vile man in question grabs it, bringing it to the elongated nose of his mask.

I try to separate them, but The Crow flicks my wrist away effortlessly, reminding me of just how helpless I can be as he wraps Asher’s hand around the nose, finger by finger.

“Push up, Asher. Push up, and you will have made your sacrifice,” he orders, never actually explaining what the sacrifice is.

I feel the resolute moment take over Asher, a calmness draping over him, one I’m certain he’s never felt before, as he pushes up.

An almighty, harrowing scream fills the room, making me stumble back a step as I instinctively lift both of my hands to my ears, trying to hide from the sound, but it’s futile.

The pain is etched into every syllable as I watch the mask break free from The Crow’s face, confirming the haunting sound is coming from the unmasked man as he falls to his knees, shielding his face with his hands.

I gape in horror, shocked as his screams only grow louder, more panicked, but before there’s even a chance for the sound to relent, another joins the mix, only this time, it’s from Asher.

A raspy snarl on the edge of a howl bites through the air as he drops to the floor along with The Crow. The mask is no longer in his hands, but cemented to his face. He pushes and pulls, desperate to get it off, igniting the terror deeper in my soul as I watch them both struggle.

The deep burn of Asher’s pain subsides, the sound becoming nothing more than a distant memory as he slumps to the floor. Terror sweeps through my limbs, and despite the noise still coming from The Crow, I rush to Asher’s side, crouching beside him as I call out his name.

“Asher? Asher! Wake up, Asher,” I call out, shaking him slightly, but he remains on his side, lifeless. I run my fingertips over his throat, breathing a sigh of relief to find his pulse is still fluttering.

Unsure what to do, I run my hand over Asher’s face, calling out his name again and again, desperate for him to hear me, to respond, but nothing comes.

Tears spill down my cheeks, soaking my skin as I plead for him to come back to me, and it’s only when I choke on a hiccup from my tears that I realize the screaming from The Crow has stopped.

Snapping my head in his direction, I find him propped against the far wall beside the desk. Not only is the mask gone, now clinging to Asher instead, but his leather jacket has been tossed aside, along with the hat he discarded earlier.

A bewildered look touches his features as he sits, jaw slack, gaping at Asher. His eyes are bright, so blue they glisten, a complete contrast to the darkness that resided in him a moment ago.

What the hell is going on?

He drags a hand down his face, his worn t-shirt no longer the white I imagine it once was, but now a tea-stained beige that frays along the neckline. He can’t take his eyes off Asher.

“What have you done?” I breathe, venom coating my words as I snarl at him.

It’s as if I break him from a trance, and he quickly rushes to his feet, brushing his short brown waves back off his face. He’s halfway to the door when I chase after him, shoving at his back without warning and making him stumble a step, the door catching his fall.

“I said, what have you done?” I bite, fury raging inside of me.

He glances over his shoulder, irritation in his eyes, but it’s nowhere near as sinister as it was when he wore the mask.

Oh my God. What has he done to him? “Answer me!” I scream, my hands balling into fists at my sides in an attempt to contain the anger inside of me.

“Wylder needs to find Sian, and whatever you do, don’t fucking lose Bryony,” he states, grabbing the door handle, ready to leave, like that makes any damn sense after whatever the hell he just did to Asher.

“What?” I grunt with a frown, exasperated, and his eyes widen.

“Promise me,” he insists, and I scoff.

“Fuck. You. What have you done to him?” I snap, and he shakes his head, pressing his fingertips into his temples as he meets my stare once more.

“Do it, Polaris. And check the coins. You’ll understand soon enough.”