“Miss Avery, are you all right?” I ask softly, but the girl doesn’t acknowledge me. Doesn’t even blink. “Westlyn, I understand you’ve just been through something traumatic, but I need to know if you’re hurt so I can assess your wounds.”
She shakes her head, still shivering.
I turn the heat on full blast, aiming all the vents her way. Then, gesturing toward the cup holder, “I brought you a treat from Stella’s. Still hot, if you want it.”
“Th-thank you,” she finally whispers, and I’m about ready to weep in relief that she’s actually speaking again.
But she’s far from well—barely manages to keep the cup steady as she brings it to her pale lips.
“Tell me what you need, love,” I whisper. “Tell me what to do. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what—”
“Draegan, just… just drive. Please.”
I watch her for another beat, then nod and maneuver us out of the garage.
We ride in silence through the annoying late-night traffic clogging the city streets. Once we get through the Lincoln Tunnel, the road finally opens up, and Westlyn blows out a long, shuddering breath.
“Thanks for the latte.” She finishes the last of it and sticks the empty cup back in the holder. “I needed that.”
Her voice is steady now, but her hands are still trembling.
Noticing me looking at them, she clenches them into fists and shoves them into her coat pockets.
“Maybe I should’ve gotten you decaf,” I say.
“It’s not the coffee, Draegan. It’s…damn it.” She squeezes her eyes shut, as if she’s trying to erase whatever the hell she witnessed tonight. “I’m losing it. I’m seriously losing it and I can’t even remember everything that happened and I feel like the walls are closing in and I can’t breathe and I—”
“Westlyn.” I slide my hand behind her neck, giving her a gentle squeeze. My touch is steady, but inside my blood is simmering again, my frustration with Jude tempered only by my concern for the girl beside me. “Tell me what happened.”
“They were here… The guys who…” She trails off into a sob, her shoulders hitching.
“I know, love. I’m sorry. Seeing them again must’ve been…” My other hand tightens around the wheel, knuckles white. “…difficult.”
She takes another moment to gather herself. Then, “It wasn’t, though,” she whispers. “Not… not like I thought. Is that weird?”
“Confronting the men who terrorized you… I don’t imagine there’s a rule book. Whatever you felt is completely valid.”
“It’s just… I’ve been having nightmares about what they did to me for a decade. Seeing them again… I figured I’d freak out. Like it would bring everything rushing right back. Instead, I was oddly calm. Cold, even. Jude led me into this slaughterhouse room, and suddenly there they were, slumped on the floor. Meat hooks dangled from the ceiling. There was a big grinder thing, too.”
“I’m familiar with the layout.” I don’t mention how often I’ve been there. The packing plant has been one of Jude’s favorite “worksites” since we purchased it in the mid-fifties.
“Jude and Auggie had already worked them over pretty good,” she continues. “There was a lot of blood. I’ve never seen skin so pale. I… I knew they didn’t have long to live.”
I continue massaging her neck with a light touch, a million questions racing through my mind, but I don’t dare voice them now. Don’t dare scare her back into silence.
“The whole drive down tonight, I kept thinking about what I wanted to say to them. What final words I’d leave them with, knowing mine would likely be the last they ever heard. I wanted them to know I was still standing, despite what they did to me. Still fighting. I wanted them to look me in the eye and know it was my turn now—thatIwas the reason fortheirsuffering. I asked them if they knew who I was. I showed them my scars. But when the time came for my big speech, all the words I’d rehearsed in my mind just… just vanished.” She wipes a tear from her blood-streaked face. “Ten years ago, they stole my dignity. Obliterated any sense of safety I had. Over and over, I begged them to stop. I begged them for my life. I screamed for them until my throat was raw. Jake called me a wicked little whore tonight. And in that moment, I realized I didn’t want to give them another fuckingword. I wanted to give them pain.”
We’re practically alone on the highway now, the hum of the tires on the road a comforting din, her heartbeat slow and steady once more.
“Good girl,” I whisper, a surge of pride welling up inside.
“I found a dagger—a curved blade so sharp it could split dust motes. As soon as I wrapped my hand around the grip, a strange feeling came over me, just like earlier when I drew the Ace of Swords card. From that moment on, I was on autopilot. I remember kneeling before them. I remember pressing the knife to Jake’s throat. I said something about making their last moments agonizing, and how that would be nothing compared to what they’d suffer athishands… His? I’m not even sure who I meant. It didn’t feel like any of those words even came from me. And then I just… blacked out.”
She’s silent for so long, I begin to worry she’s slipping under again. My hand tightens around the back of her neck, and then—finally—she turns to me and says, “The next thing I remembered, I was across the room in Auggie’s arms, begging him to… to touch me while Jude finished the job with the mages. I watched him slit their throats, but then something changed… All of a sudden, all I could see were the runes. Their bodies were carved with them. Every inch of visible skin… And every rune pulsed with a strange silver light.”
“Runes? But…Youcarved them?”
“I wouldn’t have believed it if Auggie and Jude didn’t swear it was me. It’s like I was in a trance the whole time. None of us even noticed what they were until that very instant, when they started glowing.”
