Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Kill me,” he begs. “Please.”
“Now, Moren,” I sigh. “Would killing you teach you a lesson?” I bring the barrel of my gun to his forehead. “Killing you is much too beneficial for the mistake you’ve made. There is no suffering in death. It all just ends for you, and you’ll live your life in the afterworld, gleeful and robbing souls, and what comes of it, eh, Moren?” I look him hard in the eyes. “Nothing, that’s what. Hand on the table.”
Moren’s right hand trembles as he places it flat on the tabletop, and I put my gun back in place, pulling out my steel rope and wrapping it around his forefinger and middle finger. He’s crying, praying, but what’s the point of prayers? They’ll get him nowhere.
Without another moment of mercy, I slice two of his fingers off with the rope and he screams, throwing his head back and hitting the edge of the filthy couch. He cradles his bleeding hand to his chest, sobbing, and I’m not sure what it is about the act, but it causes a wrenching in the center of my chest, like something is grabbing my heart and twisting it. The pain angers me. It defies everything I’ve built, everything I stand for, and I’m normally not one to let anger control me, but this time I do.
I stand there staring at Moren, realizing how easy he has it, despite how fucking poor he is. He has this life with no burdens, no lies, no torment, no pain, and no Tether hanging above his head, and he goes and fucks it up by stealing from me. Me? The fucking Monarch of Blackwater! He’s a fucking idiot who has it so easy—it’s all so simple for him! Why does he abuse it?
I don’t think as I bring a foot up and kick him in his face. I kick and stomp until my vision turns red, and it isn’t until a pair of hands grip my shoulders to yank me back that I stop the angry assault. The hands burn through my coat, increasing my anger.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I snatch myself away from the hands and turn to face Killian, pointing my gun at him. Killian doesn’t flinch, but he frowns, glaring at me.
“This is not you, brother,” he rasps, and I lower my gun, breathing raggedly. I look back at Moren, whose face is bloody and swelling, but he groans. Still alive.
I switch my gaze to Killian again, then Rowan, who wears every emotion on his face—concern, confusion, a little bit of fear. He’s not afraid of me. He’s afraid for me.
“All right, Caz?” Rowan asks.
I stare at them, men who are basically my brothers. Both of them stare at me with pity in their eyes, and why shouldn’t they? I’m not like them. We’re all monsters, yes, but I’m head of this beast and I’m nosediving, dragging them down with me.
Another wave of pain hits me, and I clutch my chest. I nearly buckle to my knees, but I catch myself. You’re weak. Pathetic. You’re a worthless bloody bastard. As I draw in a sharp breath, Rowan reaches for me, but I step away before he can and leave the house. Once I’m outside, I mount Onyx and ride away, refusing to look back.
Sixty-One
WILLOW
“Maybe if you think about something from the Vakeeli place?” Faye is standing near the end of a shelf in the basement, staring at me. I’m in front of it, like I was last time, staring at empty black crates, mimicking my actions when I found myself in the forest. I even picked up one of the leftover bottles of wine, but that didn’t help.
I’ve been thinking about Caz. What more can I possibly do to get there?
“I don’t think it works that way,” I tell her. “Every time it happened, it was random, but it seemed the more I heard him in my head and interacted with him mentally, the closer I was getting to his world. Now that he’s blocking me out, I don’t know if it’ll work the same.”
“Well, surely, there’s a way you can get back. Maybe certain events lead you there.” Faye taps her chin, looking around—her signature moves when she’s hatching a plan. “Can you try talking to him right now?”
“Not really. My words come back to me, like they’re bouncing off a wall.”
“How can he do that?”
“I have no idea.”
We both sigh. “Well, one thing mi abuelita Mariana always did when she wanted to escape reality was meditating,” Faye offers. “For that, you need to be somewhere comfortable. Not in the basement of an old bookstore.”
“Right.” And I did consider that. I’ve tried closing my eyes and picturing myself in Vakeeli again. I’ve only been able to get through Silvera, and she’s hunting again. She hasn’t been around Caz. Maybe she will be soon, but until then I need to find a way there that isn’t through a hungry wolf.