Page 65 of This Cruel Fate

Adonis looked at her with half-lidded eyes for half a second before he moved. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and his lips met hers in a fierce kiss. “You did it,” he mumbled out in between their shared breaths. “You were incredible.”

Xolia clawed at him, trying to eliminate any space between them. “You were amazing,” she said, breathless. Their lips met again, hot and punishing. Bruising. “Holding off both twins at once? Amazing.”

The reminder of the twins and Helen had them pulling away from each other, adjusting their clothes and hair. Xolia couldn’t stop her cheeks from heating up when she looked at Adonis.

“Where are they?”

“Come on,” he said while grabbing her hand. They walked through the arena building and out the back door they had entered through.

Adonis led her over cracked sidewalks and between darkened buildings. He stopped when they reached her old barracks. There were five barracks stationed in the complex. One of them had been for the young children where they all started, there they received basic education and an introduction into how to use their powers and what they could expect for the rest of their lives as Ris’s most prominent and elite law enforcement. The one Adonis stopped at existed much more recently in her memory.

It was the building she’d called home from twelve to seventeen. On the seventh floor there was a single room that was barely wide enough for her to extend her arms out on either side. A twin-sized bed had taken up half the space and then a small dresser unit, where she’d kept her clothes and toiletries and stolen trinkets, took up another quarter. There’d been countless nights when either Adonis or Rowan had sat with her while they’d talked about what a future of freedom might mean. What they would do if they didn’t have to live under President Gornne’s oppressive leadership.

For the first time since she’d left that room, Xolia thought her younger self might be pleased to see her. A younger Xolia would be ashamed that she’d ever stopped fighting for what was right. A younger Xolia would hate that she didn’t have the public acclaim she’d held under Silas’s leadership. An older Xolia pushed the worry down that she didn’t know which was more important to her now.

“Why are we here?” she asked, pulling her hand from Adonis’s.

“It’s where I had them take everyone,” he said.

“Really?”

Adonis nodded. His sense of nostalgia was odd, in an endearing sort of way. “Let’s go, then.” Xolia took a deep breath and walked in through the front door. Unlike the arena, there was no electricity in the building, just a faint white glow slipping from a closed door, off to the left of the lobby, that once was the entrance to the laundry room.

Even in the dark, Xolia could make out the traces of decay and chipped paint. Despite that, there was still the same overwhelming sense of sterility to the place she’d always associated with it. There was nothing of individuality to the building at all.

Together, they slipped into the one illuminated room. Two men stood in the back corners watching over the bound and gagged trio. Snot and tears leaked from noses and mouths. A small pit formed in her stomach. This wasn’t self-defense anymore.

But they can’t stay alive. And really, if I was fighting them, I’d just keep them immobile anyways. This isn’t any different.

She half-believed herself, and that was enough to go through with it. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Adonis, she faced them, looked them in the eyes, and killed them.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The ride back to Adonis’s apartment was quiet. Xolia stared out the tinted window, lights flashing in and out of focus. Her mind didn’t linger on the event. It’d started and then it’d been over. Less fuss than a full-on fight, and the cleanup hadn’t fallen to her. It had been clinical. Without danger.

Something dark lurked under Xolia’s skin. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt. Maybe they shouldn’t have killed them while they were bound and gagged. Maybe they should have forced Helen’s surrender rather than killing her. She wouldn’t have stopped. Peter is relying on me, I can’t let him down. But would he be okay with murder? Xolia bit her lip and tried to rein in her thoughts. They wouldn’t stop their cyclical spiral of guilt and justification.

“Will this come back to us?” she asked, leaning over to watch Adonis. The jut of his neck bobbed as he swallowed.

“No.” He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and brought a hand to rest on her thigh. “We weren’t the only ones who wanted Helen out of the way. They’ll make sure this gets buried. Part of her plan was to open the borders, you know? We did the right thing.”

Xolia blanched. Ris only had one neighboring country on the southern border and had isolated its borders for as long back to the earliest days of the monarchy. Even the presidents had kept the borders closed. What was Helen thinking?

Xolia leaned back against the headrest. “We need to figure out what Atlas is planning.”

“Once you’re in the public eye constantly, he won’t be able to go after you anymore,” Adonis reasoned.

“That’s not what worries me,” she admitted. “I’m more concerned that he hasn’t come after me again. I feel like I’ve missed something.”

She placed her hand over his, seeking any amount of comfort from him. “I think that he knew Silas better than I did.” The words stung. Silas had always pushed her further, pushed her to want more, and if she had been nothing more than a disappointment to him, what was the rest of this? She would’ve been better off pretending she was happy with Marshall and working under Rowan.

“Don’t say that.” Adonis flipped his hand, so their palms met. “We don’t know that for sure. If Atlas knows anything more about Silas, or whatever he was planning, we can figure it out.”

The full weight of everything they had done, and everything still to be done crashed into her. “He saw him before he died. Multiple times. The last time I saw him, we were supposed to help FAR, and that’s what I did. It’s what I’ve done for seven years, Adonis, I can’t let Atlas have this.”

Coasting to a stop at the apartment’s underground parking lot, Adonis turned to Xolia. “He won’t. Silas trusted you for a reason. He would be proud of you, Xolia.”

Xolia let Adonis lead her to the elevator and into his room, where they slowly took off each other’s clothes, and he lavished burning kisses all over her body. He whispered praises along her skin that Xolia wished she didn’t need to hear so badly. She clung to him in the late hours of the night, hoping that she could wake up without the all-encompassing blanket of fear.

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