Page 57 of A Cruel Kindness

Without the pressure of my family, I could let the Bond unleash them. Flipping the knife in my hand, I threw it upwards in a diagonal arc, watching happily as it slashed through the air right next to Carson’s head and embedded itself in one of the beams supporting the ceiling.

Carson looked behind him with raised eyebrows, as if needing to confirm that I’d actually done that. “You seem fine,” was all he had to say to Soren. “You and Bellamy are well-matched.”

“Don’t act like you did something noble by getting out of the way,” I snapped, my hand itching to pull out another knife. You could only have one Match at a time, with most people only finding a new one after their previous Match had died. Some pairs parted amicably, when someone was discharged from duty.

But even if that didn't happen, a Soul Match would nullify another other partnership before it. Nothing could get in the way of your Soul Mate.

“Now, princess, don’t lie,” Soren’s voice slid down my spine in a heated wave of sound. “Carson clearly did us a favor by fucking off to the other side. Pity it was the wrong choice of allegiance.”

“You don’t know anything, Soren,” Carson defended, and I hated that he had a point. I had a hunch what his motivations for defecting were, but he didn’t need to run out on Soren without explanation.

You’re omitting the truth. It’s no different. The Bond said, grumbling.

“You don’t get to stand beside vague truths to defend yourself,” Soren snapped back. “Either have the courage to tell me exactly what happened or don’t blame me for holding a grudge. Pick.”

Carson’s eyes softened then, as if he was just remembering who Soren was to him before I came into the picture. They were as close as brothers for six years. That relationship just didn’t end overnight, no matter how deep the betrayal.

Carson opened his mouth, about to defend, before Elijah held up a hand, cutting him off before he could even get a word out.

The power Elijah held over him became crystal clear then. Soren scoffed, stepping away from me to rip the bottle from Esme’s hand and take a deep swig. Carson slid Elijah a disgruntled look, one that Elijah simply returned with a raised eyebrow.

Whatever silent communication passed between them, it gave Carson permission to attempt to approach Soren. He stepped toward him quickly, almost like a little boy chasing after his friend on the playground after almost tripping him. “Soren, I’m—”

“Take one more step, and I’m smacking you across the face with my pistol,” Soren said, his hands curling over the wood of the bar. I didn’t want to interfere, but the Bond was screaming at me that Soren was in danger and needed my help.

It was like I could feel his anguish as strongly as if it was pumping through my own veins, the force of it almost suffocating me. I could easily resort to violence and sarcasm like I had before. That felt easier somehow, more impersonal.

My darker desires were telling me to turn to him and run my hand down his back in a comforting stroke. Pull him into a tight hug so he couldn’t focus on anything else but me. Kiss him, bringing him closer than anyone else.

But that wasn’t what we agreed to. It wasn’t what I was supposed to do.

I kicked my foot up, reaching for the knife tucked into my boot with my third and fourth finger, using my thumb and pointer finger to make sure the tightly rolled piece of paper was still adhered to the weapon.

I pulled it into my hand, obscuring the paper, right as Carson took another step towards Soren.

Bad idea, the Bond said, right as Soren laughed incredulously and pulled out his gun, pointing it right at Carson’s head.

In a flash, half of Elijah’s men had weapons pointing at Soren. I heard the distinct rustle and clashing of limbs and guns through the rest of the room, knowing there was a domino effect of weapons drawn between Vir and Muli through the rest of the room.

The only people who remained defenseless were Ford and Esme. Well, I wasn’t sure either of them could be seen as completely defenseless when there was glass around them. I was sure Ford could make nasty work out of a broken bottle.

Taking my chances, I walked forward to interrupt. Soren would be less inclined to pull the trigger if I was standing there. I got in the middle of him and Carson, lifting my knife up to carefully push Soren’s gun away from Carson’s face.

“I don’t think killing him is a good idea,” I said to Soren. He was looking down to where my knife was pressed to his gun, so I had to bend down to grab hold of his eyes. When I did, I saw so much pain and betrayal there I was tempted to abandon all reason and slash through Carson’s face.

Soren blinked, some of that rage clearing. Then his lip curled into a pout. “You don’t let me have any fun.”

A smile broke across my face before I could stop it. “Apologies, darling.”

Soren’s nostrils flared slightly, his eyes taking on a dark blue I hadn’t seen from him. To ignore the way that made my chest constrict, I turned to Carson. I drew my blade back up to him, tracing the perimeter of his face with my knife.

To others, it probably looked like I’d lost my damn mind, resorting to some cruel version of myself. Leaning into it, I brought the hilt of the knife right to the opening of his shirt, making sure the blade was close enough to his skin to scare, but not enough to actually cut.

Slowly, I drew the hilt down and away, making the piece of paper drop down his shirt. Carson’s eyes widened ever so slightly when he felt it, but I cut him off by saying, “I suggest you stay far away from Soren. Next time I see you, I might not be as forgiving.”

Carson swallowed thickly, and it wasn’t until then that I realized how deadly serious I sounded.

The Bond had all but taken over my voice again, ringing with power.