Page 160 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

In the end, he’s barely breathing, and he has almost no skin left, but the fires of my rage are still burning. I don’t think I will ever put them out.

I open my mouth and let out a shriek, a scream that echoes and echoes. The alters inside me rise until we are all together, staring at the man who hurt us, who killed every family member we had, and we lift our hand, the one that is covered with blood.

The one that has her blood and mine.

We push the blade into his throat, and we slowly saw through it and watch his life leave him.

It should end things. It should make everything better and fix everything. But it doesn’t.

I return to the dark and leave the alters to catch the body.

Rolly

It’s over, but just as I think that, she collapses. I dive forward, catching her and pulling her up against my chest, holding her tight. I brush my hair back, my eyes burning as I fight not to cry. The bond is silent, trembling in pain now.

“Baby?”

She opens her eyes, and I don’t know who I’m looking at. She is just so lost.

“She’s gone.”

Kestrel.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper and pull her up into my arms, cradling her against my chest. She starts to sob, those cries echoing around this empty tomb.

I wish we could go back, fix things, change it, save her the pain or even just allow her the time to grieve and fall apart, but we have no time for tears; we’ve been here too long, and we need to clean up.

I carry her away, leaving the rest of the pack to deal with the cleanup. I’ve seen some terrible things. I’ve lived through awful things, but I can’t imagine seeing someone hurt someone I love like that and being okay.

Even in the institutions, it was never that bad. What that poor girl had to go through, what they both went through, was horrendous.

I climb into the car and sit in the back of the blacked-out SUV, and I hold her so gently, rocking her as she falls into a million pieces. She clings to me like I can make it okay. I sing to her, whispering that I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, over and over. Just telling her I won’t leave.

She’s free, but at what cost?

“We have to bury her in a meadow of wildflowers. She loved flowers.”

“Okay, we will.”

She sniffs, and then the boot of the car opens, and Callea’s body, which has been wrapped in a tarp, is placed in the back of the car. Blaze gets in behind the driver’s seat and twists to look back at us.

I explain her request.

He thinks about it for a moment and then nods. “I know the perfect spot.”

King gets in, murmurs and touches her. Pix on the other side. Roseland and Sage squeeze into the front passenger seat. We drive a short distance before the warehouse explodes. I turn my head, watching the orange ball of flames reach high into the sky.

I can’t help but think that there really is a phoenix in those flames devouring all the bad. I hope so.

We’re bruised and bleeding, but we don’t stop until we are two hours away. Then we pull over, and Roseland limps into a convenience store and comes back with food, drinks, and a first aid package.

We patch each other up as we go, drinking and speaking in low and soft tones. Everyone is aware and conscious of the body in the back.

Seven hours later, just as the night has turned to its darkest hue, we arrive in a place that is vaguely familiar.

“Where are we?”

“Do you remember that house in the middle of nowhere, the one Kestrel was offended to stay in? The one that burned down?” Blaze asks softly.