Silence fell as Lucien locked gazes with her. They stared at each other, wrapped in death and anticipation.
In a flash of black hair and black leggings, Evelyn screeched and launched herself at him.
Her dagger flashed.
Lucien planted himself in place as if begging the knife to land true—
Whisper snarled and surged forward. Pure muscle and shadow as he flew through the air and knocked Evelyn aside before she came close to stabbing him.
She moaned as the panther slammed her to the ground.
Whisper planted his giant paws on her chest, towered over her, and with a savage roar, ripped out her throat.
Lydia screamed and ran—
Lucien moved as fast as his panther had.
Leaping over the massacre on the floor, he charged after Lydia and grabbed her around the waist. Spinning her so her back pressed against his front, he clutched her close and murmured, “I’ll give my condolences to your father when I get out of here.” Then he dragged his blade over her neck, severing her flesh and trachea and—
I passed out as thick spurts of blood rained over everything.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I PLACED HER DOWN GENTLY ON the bed that was now officially unoccupied.
I’d made a mental note of which girl lived in each pavilion and this one no longer had a guest.
Rook’s old one—with its smashed furniture and inconvenient corpses, would be taken care of by Marcus’s cleaning crew and handy crematorium. But for now...she would stay here.
Gathering Rook’s long hair, I laid it over the pillow and brushed aside lingering strands from her red, slightly swollen cheek. My hands balled to resurrect the ones who’d hurt her and kill them all over again.
Whisper paced, his long tail lashing with impatience. He snapped his jaws, his muzzle coated with congealing crimson.
“Will you stop?” I hissed. “Go away if you can’t calm down.”
He dropped to his belly and glowered at me.
Ignoring the opinionated panther, I ran my fingers over the cut on Rook’s neck, the bruises on her arms, and the marks on her wrists.
My temper stayed dangerously high, my heart pounding.
I’d been able to fight my way through the flames of the vitalsync core while killing, but now...I groaned as yet another gush of fire pushed me closer to that excruciating edge.
I didn’t have long before I did exactly what Rook had done.
My lips thinned in a smirk.
What a pair we made. Both of us unable to stay conscious in times of pressure. Both of us crippled with agony we couldn’t stop.
At least her wounds weren’t serious and the ones who were responsible were dead.
Sitting by her side, I pulled out my dagger and fisted the hilt.
My jaw clenched.
I’d been a fool.
I thought I had more time. I’d plotted my escape for so long, it’d become more of a dream than a reality.
But...I was done.
It was now or never.
And I didn’t know how I felt about that.
On the one hand, I’d been begging for this moment for twenty years. But on the other, I wasn’t ready to face the outside world and all the carnage that would come with it.
My fingers throttled the knife as my need for vengeance turned violent.
If I survived the next few days, the slaughter would begin.
I would take what I was owed.
One screaming life at a time—
My gaze dropped to Rook’s face, and everything snuffed out.
This goddamn girl.
She had no place in my revenge. She wasn’t supposed to have affected me. I’d been fighting the feelings she’d awakened ever since she cowered like the rest of them in the ballroom yet somehow wasn’t like the rest at all.
She stood out.
She was different.
And it seemed my poisoned heart had quietly forsaken me every time she was near, but now...now my eyes turned traitor too.
My breath caught as I really, truly looked at her.
Black hair as dark as my nightmares, flawless skin almost luminous in the light. For the first time in my life, I noticed little things that’d never been important up till now: the softness of her cheek, the sweep of her lashes, the slight pout of her perfectly pink lips.
Little things that were meaningless but somehow had the power to bewitch me.
I hated it.
I hated that only she could soften my fury and turn me dangerously...tender.
“Wake up,” I ordered. “I need to know if you’re okay.”
She didn’t move.
Cupping her cheek, feeling that unexplainable easing from her presence, I resisted the urge to tap her. “If I leave you alone, will you be functioning by tomorrow?”
No reaction.
Whisper snapped his teeth.
My fingers burned from touching her.
“I need you to be strong,” I muttered, my palm falling from her beautiful face. “I’ll have one shot, and you can’t fuck it up.”
Still nothing.
I drew back, anger crawling through me.
She was the key to prying open this cage.
Up until now, I’d had no qualms about using her but...
What if she didn’t survive?
What if she died tomorrow and I lost her?
I glanced at the dagger in my hand.
If I stood any chance of succeeding tomorrow, it all hinged on her.
“This is for your own good...and mine.” Gritting my teeth, I ran the tip of the dagger over my wrist where countless silver scars existed.
Ashfall blood welled, glossy and red, the entire reason for my misery.
Placing the knife beside Rook’s unconscious form, I grabbed her jaw with one hand and pressed my bleeding wrist to her mouth.
“Swallow and I’ll let you go.”
She did nothing.
Crimson trickled down her cheek, wasted.
She was the only one I’d ever bothered to heal. The only one I’d ever willingly given my blood.
Which was why tomorrow was so important.
It had to be now, or it would be too late.
Whisper came close, sniffing both of us.
Rook didn’t move.
“She’s not accepting it.” I glanced at him. “How do I make her?”
The panther licked his lips.
I scowled before wrenching my wrist from her mouth and pressing it against my own. “Good idea.”
Bracing myself, I sucked a mouthful of warm, salty copper. Whatever they’d done to me to make my blood different, didn’t work on me. I’d tried self-medicating when the pain grew too bad. I’d ingested far more of my own life-force than I wanted to admit, hoping, praying that it could do what Marcus had reported it’d shown in the lab, but I wasn’t so lucky.
But for her...it would work.
Holding the thick liquid on my tongue, I grabbed her jaw to hold her still, and bent over her.
I wasn’t prepared for the punch in my heart as our lips connected.
Not even a kiss, yet it scratched and clawed at my restraint.
I shifted over her, parting her lips with mine. My fingers tightened around her chin just in case she moved.
Her lips were cold and sweet and soft as I released the mouthful of blood, transferring it to her.
She moaned quietly.
She struggled weakly.
I didn’t let her go or break the kiss, waiting...
Her throat worked.
She swallowed.
A small sound escaped her, barely audible, but it stabbed my burning chest.
Tilting my head, I brought my wrist to my mouth again. I sucked another mouthful, the cut sore and stinging. Warm liquid pooled, threatening to trickle down my throat.