Page 5 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)

Ioannis

“I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser.”

~ Edgar Allen Poe

Six months later

“Is that her?” Ambrose asks from the front seat of the beat-up car we stole earlier that morning. His voice carries a hint of eagerness, and his grip tightens on the dashboard like a predator about to pounce.

Persephone isn’t the only one who knows a witch. Phylis had been keeping me company for months, a weekly distraction, while I waited for Persephone to come to her senses. She’s beautiful, clever, and more than willing to meet the needs Persephone had refused to acknowledge. She also understood what Persephone was to me—what the Fates had made her to be—and why her betrayal burns like a brand on my soul.

I didn’t expect her hesitation to commit to last forever. I assumed she just needed time. But breaking our bond permanently? That was something I never anticipated. A severance like that isn’t just a rejection; it’s a declaration of war against destiny itself.

Ciara had something to do with it. I know it. Her influence on Persephone was always palpable. Her whispers like the strings of a puppeteer tugging at my mate’s will. And now, I’ll have my revenge on Ciara.

Phylis had suggested I place an ad in the personals. A covert call for others like me—those torn in half by the ones the Fates created for them. A desperate act but one that bore fruit. Ambrose answered the ad, though his circumstances differ. His mate didn’t reject him; she died. The loss fuels him, but grief isn’t the same as betrayal. Still, we share a hunger to defy the gods and reclaim what was taken. Together, we’re building a new herd, one that laughs in the face of the Fates and their threads.

We spot Ciara stepping out of the convenience store with a small object wrapped in silver paper in her hand. She pauses, unwrapping it with delicate precision, then takes a bite.

“I’m hungry, Ioannis. I skipped breakfast for this. What do you think she’s eating?” Ambrose asks, his tone light but edged with impatience.

“You’re always hungry,” I mutter. Ciara nibbles on her snack with irritating grace. She eats in small, deliberate bites, each one a testament to the narcissistic control she seems to wield over everything—including Persephone.

“I might want her snack,” Ambrose says, leaning closer to the windshield. “What is it?”

“How should I know? I can’t see that far.”

When she approaches her car, parked conveniently beside ours, the sunlight catches the melting chocolate in her hand. A Klondike Bar. Typical. Even her indulgences are dainty.

Ambrose moves quickly, slipping out of the car and positioning himself behind her with practiced ease. She’s too preoccupied with licking the melting chocolate off her fingers to notice him. The sticky mess has left a smear on her cheek. Grinning, Ambrose makes his move.

With one swift motion, he snatches the ice cream from her hand.

“Hey!” she screams, whirling around.

Ambrose shoves the entire bar into his mouth. His cheeks bulge comically while he chews. “I was hungry,” he mumbles around the mouthful.

Ciara’s eyes flash with anger. She crosses her arms before she opens her mouth. Probably to call for help, but I step out of the car and cut her off.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say calmly, although laced with menace.

Her glare locks onto mine, and pure hatred radiates from her. What did I ever do to her? I loved her best friend. That’s all.

Her arms tighten across her chest like armor.“And why not?” she snaps.

Without a word, I reach into my pocket and pull out the necklace. The charm is identical to the one Persephone always wore. The one Ciara spelled for protection. Only this one is different. Phylis crafted it, imbuing it with her own magic—a protection spell designed to mimic Ciara’s work in case she tries to read it too closely. It took months to find the perfect replica, but the look on her face was worth every moment.

Her expression falters, and her confidence cracks.

Ambrose leans in, swiping the chocolate smear from her cheek with a slow, deliberate lick.

“Hey!” she yells again, shoving him away.

“I can’t let good chocolate go to waste.” He grins after licking his lips. He even cleaned the aluminum wrapper earlier, leaving it spotless—a disgusting but oddly impressive feat.

“What do you want, Ioannis?” Ciara asks. Her voice tight with barely restrained fury.

A crow squawks in the distance, and the sound grates against my nerves. Birds. I hate birds. Filthy creatures that leave their poop everywhere without regard for anyone else.

“That’s my car next to yours,” I say, nodding toward the vehicle. “You’re going to be a good little witch and come with us.”

“Like hell I am.”

I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “If you don’t, I’ll take more than this necklace from Persephone.”

Her eyes widen—the threat hitting its mark. She knows I mean it, even if I haven’t seen Persephone since the bond was broken. Not for lack of trying, though. Phylis scried for her, using a hairbrush left behind at her parents’ house, but that damned charm blocks us every time.

Reluctantly, Ciara drops her purse to the pavement and walks to the backseat, where Ambrose holds the door open with a mocking bow.

I bend down, scooping up the spilled contents of her bag. A pack of gum, a wallet, and a half-empty bottle of water. I hand the items to Ambrose, along with her keys.

“You know what to do,” I tell him.

He nods, slipping into her car. I watch while he pulls away, heading for the lake where the vehicle will meet its watery grave.

The aluminum wrapper from the Klondike Bar flutters through the air in his wake, taking its time before landing on the ground. For a moment, I stare at the polar bear on the foil. Its cheerful expression mocks me.

With Ciara seated in the back of our car, I climb into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

“You’ve ruined everything, Ciara,” I say while pulling onto the road. “It’s time to pay for your crimes.”

She doesn’t respond, but I can feel her eyes boring into the back of my head.

The crow circles above us as we drive away, its cry cutting through the air like a warning.