Sinner (Empire #3) Read Online Sheridan Anne

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Dark Tags Authors: Series: Empire Series by Sheridan Anne
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Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 114551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
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I swallow hard before glancing back and checking on Easton, wondering how long I can drag this out. “I don’t even know who you are,” I say, my chest heaving. “I mean, I know you’re Zade’s mom, and I know you abandoned him when he needed you most, but I don’t even know your real name.”

She lifts her chin, so different from the carefree aunt I grew up with. “My name is Priscilla DeVil, the wife of our late leader, Lawson Michael DeVil the Third.”

“You’re working with my father.”

Her gaze narrows and she spins the revolver again before pointing and shooting. My eyes widen with fear as my whole body jolts again.

CLICK!

My heart races, and I start to shake, but Priscilla just watches me, unfazed. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“You left a photo of the two of you together in your home out in the country,” I explain. “We put the pieces together, but it leaves me with more questions than I started with.”

“Like what?”

“In the photo,” I say. “It’s obvious you’re in love with him, and I guess that leaves me wondering just how long that’s been going on. I mean, I never knew who my mother was—”

CLICK!

She shoots again, and the eager spectators laugh as a terror-filled scream tears through my chest. “No,” she says, rolling the other four bullets around her palm. “I know where you are going with this, and absolutely not. I am not your mother. I birthed one monster in order to complete my duty to my husband by offering him an heir, and I certainly had no plans to birth another. I was never meant to be someone’s mother. Zade was a lost cause since the day he was born, and he’s clearly just as foolish as his father thinking he can take the crown of an organization that was never his to take. The second my husband got his talons into that child, he meant nothing to me. He was useless. Besides, I always knew I was destined for greater things, and now here I am.”

Her words sting, but I don’t question it as I watch her insert a third bullet into the chamber. I’ve been lucky, but there’s only so much luck one girl can have before it runs out.

“You’ve come far,” she starts telling me. “And despite what you think, I do regret that I must end your life now, but what your father needs is much bigger than you or me, and unfortunately, the only way for him to take that step is to remove you from the equation. You understand me, don’t you? He’s going to go on to do great things with me at his side, just as it always should have been. My late husband, he didn’t deserve the love I gave him. He was an unworthy fraud. But the blood of Empire pulses through your father’s veins, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that he takes the crown.”

“You’re insane.”

CLICK!

Fuck.

I catch my breath, swallowing hard.

“I warned you what would happen if you didn’t behave,” she says.

“I know, I know,” I say, trying to breathe through the fear. “I’m sorry. I’ll behave. But I just . . . there’s something that I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“The ritual where Zade’s father was to sacrifice you. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around how you could have survived it, but it’s not possible. There are no loopholes in the bylaws, and Nikolai Thorne said that he watched you die, but he couldn’t have, not when you’re . . .” I nod toward her, not needing to finish my sentence.

A smug grin stretches across her face, and I watch as she stands. “Trust that old bastard to take The Circle’s darkest secrets to the grave,” she says, clearly not knowing the old bastard as well as she thought, considering that he couldn’t seem to keep any secrets before his execution, going as far as to put a target on his own daughter’s back.

Priscilla begins unbuttoning her suit jacket, and I watch her with curiosity as she allows it to hang open, then curling her fingers around the remaining bullets in her palm, she starts working the buttons of her silk blouse. “I did die that day,” she says, her tone gravelly and filled with disdain.

My brows furrow, confused until she opens her blouse across her chest, showing off a sickening scar that runs right through the center of her chest, a scar I’ve never seen in my life. “I was forced to the dirty floor of that tomb, my arms and legs bound like an animal as my husband took a hunting knife and tore through the center of my chest. I paid the ultimate price for his chance at leadership, and for what? For a fraudulent leader? He broke me, and I will never forget the agony of that night.”


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