“Stay down,” Rooke hissed and threw the bucket aside.
Turner, however, wasn’t a very good listener. He tried pushing himself up, searching for support from the tree behind him.
Rooke gave him a forceful push, shoving him back to the ground. Even then, he didn’t give up. He scrambled to his hands and knees and launched into a sprint towards the woods behind him. Corabeth had to admit, he was fast. For a human.
It took Rooke a mere moment to catch up to him and drag him back to the tree, throwing him against it so hard, his head thumped against it. For a moment, he was dazed.
“There’s really no point in running,” Corabeth said matter-of-factly.
Turner’s gaze cleared as he turned his hate-filled eyes towards Corabeth. “Burn in hell, bitch,” he spat and went to stand up again.
“This one wants to suffer,” Rooke sighed. He grabbed one of Turner’s ankles, yanking it out from under him. With a thump, he landed on his backside. Holding his leg up, Rooke brought his foot down on Turner’s knee and broke it backwards. The unnatural angle of the joint, the crunching of bone and ripping of tendons made Corabeth’s stomach churn.
She remained unmoving.
The insults sputtering from Turner’s mouth morphed into a visceral scream. Rooke dropped the foot, rendered useless, and could finally step away from the man without the danger of his escape. Turner stared at his mutilated leg, hands grabbing at his thigh, and screamed and screamed and screamed.
“Turner,” Corabeth called, trying to get his attention. “Turner!”
The shivering man turned his wide eyes, brimming with tears, to Corabeth, mouth agape. His chin was wet from the drool dribbling from his lips.
“I did your brother the courtesy of telling him why he had to die. I want to do the same for you,” Corabeth said, speaking clearly and slowly to break through the man’s shock.
“You fucking whore,” Turner sputtered, “We were right about you the whole time. You sold your soul to the Devil, you lay with a Beast. You are a curse upon us!”
Rooke stepped up again, backhanding the man, much like Turner had done to Corabeth. “That is the last time you speak of her like that,” Rooke said, coming dangerously close to Turner’s face. To his credit, Turner didn’t even flinch. Instead, he spat the blood from his split lip back in Rooke’s face.
A slow, cold kind of smile spread across Rooke’s face as he licked the blood from his lips. Corabeth couldn’t help but admire the way he worked. The blood splatter was in beautiful contrast to his pale skin. He wore brutality like a second skin.
“An early taste,” Rooke murmured, savoring the flavor, before pushing up again.
“Are you listening, Turner?” Corabeth asked.
This time, when Turner looked at her, he made no attempts to move or insult her. “You’re telling me my brother is dead,” he ground with murder in his eyes. His rage still boiled just beneath the surface.
“Yes,” Corabeth confirmed, “and I’m telling you that Giles and your father will also die.”
At this, Turner paled.
Finally,Corabeth thought,a reaction.
“You… you can’t,” Turner stuttered. “You can’t be so evil as to take four lives for… for…”
“For what?” Corabeth asked. “For siccing your brother on me? Or for burning down my home?”
Turner’s expression turned thunderous, telling Corabeth everything she needed to know. She had suspected Turner had been the one to light the match. After all, it had been he who suggested leaving Corabeth to the Beast.
But he clamped his mouth shut, defiant to the very end.
Corabeth let out an exhausted kind of sigh. “You have your ancestors to thank for this,” she said. “They are responsible for the curse that plagues Rooke. That plagues the village. Dying will be the only good thing you’ve done in your life.”
Corabeth wasn’t sure if she was justifying their actions to Turner or herself.
“You’re delusional if you think you’ll get close to them now,” Turner rumbled. His face twitched as he tried to adjust his position, the pain in his leg beginning to overwhelm him.
Corabeth turned to Rooke, standing beside her, poised and ready. “I think it’s time,” she said.
“He won’t be able to run,” Rooke said, observing Turner’s shivering body on the ground. “Shame.”
