Page 2 of Tethered Souls

Perhaps.

My knucklescrackinto the man’s ribs. He stumbles to the side, gasping through swollen lips.

The ones on my other hand follow.

I breathe out quickly but not harshly, controlling it, not letting it control me.

Perhaps I am a failure.

Perhaps my ancestors are rolling over in their graves on the Plane of Monsters, also known as the Shadow Domain – a name we took to name our own Family.

But who fucking cares?

My fist rocks into his flesh.

They are dead –

I duck and come back up again, an uppercut rattling the last of the man’s resolve.

– and I am alive.

I throw all my power behind the punch. My knuckles slam up into his chin. His head snaps back in a tellingcrack. Blood rushes down his face from his previously broken nose, that rich copper smell filling my stomach. But he doesn’t jerk, doesn’t gurgle. Doesn’t scream either. He just sways, unconscious. I dart forward and grab his head with both hands. A suddensnaphas him dropping to the floor. Now he no longer breathes.

I look down at him as he crumbles to the ground.

Blood runs down my knuckles. My back.

My nostrils flare as the sting of the air caresses my cuts.

Iaman abomination.

But I am also the Boss of the Shadow Domain. Anyone who doesn’t like that can fucking try their hand at killing me. They might even succeed at becoming another scar on my back, but theywillbecome another body in the ground.

But that isn’t the issue, is it?

That’s not why I’m down here in the middle of the night. The floor of our family gym littered with bodies.

Turning on my heels, I head for the wood bench against the pale-gray wall that Khalid stands beside. I grab the hand towel he offers me. I want to tell him to get more prisoners, but that is –wasall we had. Most don’t live long enough to be captured. Khalid is too efficient in his responsibilities. These were only brought in alive because I demanded it. Low rats wanted for questioning.

“You see your girl?” I ask as I wipe the sweat from my face. My brother raises a healing wand to tend to my back, the warmth of the magic seeping into my skin.

“No.”

“You should.” Being away from her is eating at him likethis thingis eating at me, and at least one of us should find some sanctuary.

But his jaw only tightens as he steps around me to put the wand back into the cabinet beside the bench. “Not until I kill whoever it is who’s trying to kill you.”

Scar number thirteen. Received as many months ago. The sly fucker hit me from behind, nearly killing me with a knife to my chest. If I hadn’t turned in time, he would’ve pierced my heart. Khalid was off stalking his girl, watching her instead of me, and his guilt over that is crippling. Especially since Mother had to use her magic to save me. Any power she uses will drain her life – a last parting gift from Father, who died cursing her, sacrificing himself to strengthen the spell about a year ago.

Ever since that night, Khalid hasn’t been to see his girl. A foolish endeavor considering we don’t have a lead to go on; I woke up remembering nothing about the attack or how I managed to make it back to one of our warehouses before collapsing in the door.

I start to tell him someone’s always trying to kill me and that isn’t an excuse, but just then my neck prickles, the fine hairs warning me of someone’s approach, and I pivot to face the door.

It clicks open, and Mother steps inside, looking every inch the high-class woman despite the early hour. The sun isn’t even up, and already she is dressed to the nines – her hair and make-up styled to perfection, diamonds glistening around her neck, gold bands around her wrists, a rich red dress flaring out at her hips. The only thing she doesn’t wear are earrings, but with her long black hair hanging free, they would be lost anyway.

“I used to find your father here whenever he couldn’t sleep,” she says, her eyes going around the room, looking at memories long gone.

Khalid tenses beside me, but he doesn’t leave like he normally does whenever Father is mentioned – in the rare moments he is. He left us when I was twelve, came back three years later, only to take one look at me and leave again. But I remember how he used to be. The warm smiles. The tight hugs. The laughter, the teasing, the pure love he had for us.