He gestured toward Whit. It was then that I realized Earl had dragged Whit into a circle formed by ancient symbols carved into the floor, the concrete darkened by the blood of countless before. The implication was clear. If I didn’t kill Whit, we both would die.
Whit lifted his eyes just enough to meet mine, his expression filled with love and an unspoken plea for forgiveness. He’d resigned himself to his fate. After all, he’d sworn to me that he’d do anything to keep Henry and me safe, that he’d die for us. And now he intended to make good on that promise.
I broke our connection and lifted my chin, attempting to make my expression as stony and disinterested as possible while I tried to determine if the offer was actually sincere or if they were just bullshitting me, hoping to entice me to murder my husband as a particularly shittyfuck youto the man who’d betrayed them.
“If I do this,” I began, carefully enunciating each word for emphasis, “do you swear to me that Henry and I will be safe?”
“Of course, darlin’,” Earl responded quickly. “You’ll officially be family, Zellie. You’ll have everything you could possibly want. All you have to do is kill the son of a bitch who killed my June.”
I turned to Pearlie who nodded, her kind and loving smile absurdly ironic.
I searched the rest of their faces again—Junior, Iris, Chase—trying to stall, my mind racing. There was no escape. No other way. That’s what Whit had tried to communicate to me in the look we’d shared. He wasn’t just asking for my forgiveness for everything that had happened. He was letting me know he’d already forgivenmefor what he knew I had to do to save our son.
I just hoped he could read what was in my eyes as easily as I could his.
My heart pounded, my blood rushing in my ears as the full realization of what was about to happen hit me. I swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Sorry, Cousin,” Chase drawled with a wicked chuckle, coming forward to release my hands.
As he unlocked the manacles, the others’ eyes began to glow amber, their excitement and blood lust growing in anticipation of what was to come. I caught motion out of the corner of my eye, and fixed my attention elsewhere, focusing on my captors. But that glimpse of movement had been enough for me to see Whit slowly dragging himself to his feet, his face twisting with rage.
I inhaled deeply as I reached for the dagger in Pearlie’s hands, my gaze briefly meeting Whit’s where he was creeping in the shadows, unnoticed, then exhaled slowly and stepped past Pearlie into the circle.
At the same moment they all realized he wasn’t where Earl had dropped him, Whit lunged forward, ripping out Earl’s throat in one swift motion. But before Whit could turn toward me, Chase tackled him, taking him down, his talons slashing at Whit, who parried his arm away, barely managing to avoid his own throat being torn open.
“Kill him, Zellie!” Pearlie commanded, her voice edged with maniacal fervor.
I took a quick step forward as if to join the battle between Whit and Chase, but pivoted back toward Pearlie, swinging my arm as I spun and slashing her throat with the dagger she’d handed me.
Pearlie grabbed her neck with both hands in a vain attempt to staunch the blood spurting from the artery I’d opened, the hurt and betrayal in her eyes opening up a wound deep inside me that I doubt will ever close. But not waiting for her to recover from the unexpected assault, I slashed again, tearing open her stomach, spilling her entrails.
Her eyes bulged and a gurgle of blood sprayed from her mouth as she stumbled back, knocking over one of the candelabras. The fire caught her robes in a flare of light. Her scream was so shrill, I winced and covered my ears, but the distraction was enough.
A hand grasped my hair and jerked me off my feet, flinging me to one side, and sending me slamming into the bench where Henry had been. It upended, tipping over as I fell, catching me in the ribs and stealing my breath.
I pressed a hand to my side and pushed myself up with the other. As I turned to intercept Iris’s next attack, I saw Junior had rushed to Pearlie and was trying to strip her robes from her, but the material had melted to her skin, was melting to his hands. He roared with pain from the fire and heartache as Pearlie dropped to the ground, completely consumed by flames. But by then, his own robes had caught fire. He flailed wildly, trying to extricate himself from the burning mantle, but stumbled, knocking over another candelabra, the candle’s flames catching his robes and racing up his back to meet the fire already consuming him.
It all happened in the space of a few seconds, but it was enough. A searing pain in my ribs as talons ripped into my skin drew a scream of agony from my lungs, and I reflexively spun around, slicing with the dagger. The blade caught Iris across the abdomen. Not deep enough to disembowel her as I’d done Pearlie, but enough to bring her up short. I lunged for one of the candles in the circle and tossed it at her feet, the flame fizzling at the hem but not catching as I’d hoped.
When she screamed in rage and lunged at me, her face twisting with hatred, I rushed toward her instead of standing my ground, the move catching her by surprise. I brought the dagger down with both hands, burying it in her chest.
She gasped and blinked at me several times as if she didn’t know what had occurred, then dropped to her knees. I pulled another candelabra over, this time igniting her robe. Within seconds, the flames spread up to her shoulders before completely engulfing her as she fell to one side.
I glanced down at where her talons had sliced into my skin, relieved to see the wounds weren’t deep. Fortunately for me, her rage-fueled attack was sloppy, and she’d merely grazed me, only one of the cuts more serious than a cat scratch. I heaved a ragged sigh, my relief cut short when a hand came down onto my shoulder. I spun around, dagger raised and brought it down toward my attacker, but he intercepted my wrist, stopping me from driving the blade into his heart.
A single sob shook me when I recognized the beloved face before me even through the blood and gore that covered it. “Whit.”
I threw my arms around his neck, holding him for a moment, his weight heavy when he sagged against me, his strength waning. When I released him, he took my face in his hands and kissed me, the salt on my lips—whether from his tears or mine, I couldn’t be sure—stinging where my lip had split at some point.
“I love you,” I said, my words confirming what my heart already knew.
He kissed me again, long and hard, then took my hand and pulled me with him toward the basement stairs. The fire had spread to the tapestries and was now catching the wooden beams above us. But as we attempted to ascend the stairs, his knees buckled and he stumbled, landing hard on the steps.
“Come on,” I urged, squinting against the smoke that burned my eyes, assaulted my lungs. I grabbed his arm and pulled it over my shoulders. Still gripping the dagger, I wrapped my other arm around his waist, trying to avoid the worst of his wounds and keep from adding to them. “Don’t you dare give up on me now.”
We’d just reached the top of the stairs when a hulking figure appeared in the doorway, blocking our escape.
Billy Wayne.
