Page 75 of The Reaper's Vice

His bright blue eyes gleam with hatred as I step forward, flipping the daddy dagger around in my hand so I’m gripping the bladed portion. Chest heaving, I bring the handle under his chin, raising it so he’s looking me directly in the eyes.

“You can’tkeepsomeone like me,” I whisper. “You had me this long because Ilet you.If I really cared to leave—if I really wanted to…” I don’t finish the rest of the sentence. Because it’s true, and I’m just realizing it at this moment. All the things that Orion did to me—I could have escaped any time I wanted. I could have stopped himanytime I wanted. But I never did. And I don’t have the time to unpack thewhyjust now.

“Seraphina…” His throat bobs, and his eyes—God, they’re so, so sad. So hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I thrust the butt of the handle to the side of his temple, and he falls to the floor, unconscious.

As I watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I expect to be filled with some kind of resolve. Something that will tell me I made the right choice.

Instead, the only thing I feel is remorse.

36

SERAPHINA

“JUST A BAD DREAM”

I jamOrion’s keys into the ignition of his truck, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when the engine rumbles to life on the first try. I jerk the gear into reverse, not even looking where I’m going as I attempt to turn the truck around.

As I’m shifting into drive, the cabin door bursts open, and I watch as Orion’s mouth opens in a heartbroken cry. He starts running toward the truck, and I force my eyes away, slamming my foot down on the gas as I peel off into the opening between the trees. When I look in my rearview, Orion has fallen to his knees, his bright blue eyes locked onto the tail of the truck as it disappears into the forest. My chest squeezes, but I force my attention to the road, carefully dodging stray limbs and rocks that jut out onto the thin path.

It’s thirty whole minutes before I make it to Vee’s. I park the truck at the edge of the clearing and jump out, not bothering to turn the engine off as I sprint toward the mountainside. Because I’ve noticed something—something that causes my heart to fall out of my chest.

The door is wide open.

“Vee!” My voice cracks as I call into the pitch-black mouth of the tunnel. “Vee, are you in there?”

Silence greets me, and I stumble into the dark, my hand brushing the wall to guide me as I maneuver the long hallway. When I enter the large circular foyer, only one sconce is lit, casting ominous shadows along the walls and floor.

My throat bobs as I catch a glimpse of a dark stain on the middle door handle. A stain that looks a whole lot like dried blood.

“No,” I moan. “No, no, no…”

The doors on either side are sprung wide open, the frames shattered like someone took a battering ram to them. From here, I can see clear into the tiger’s rooms, though my great furry beasts are nowhere to be seen.

I shake my head, unable to believe something has happened to them as I step forward, my palm closing around the door handle. I throw it open, fighting the urge to stumble back as the acrid stench of blood and sweat assaults my senses.

It looks like a tornado went through the room—cabinets torn open, couches thrown over, pillows sliced open with stuffing strewn across the floor—but the worst is the sight of Vee’s bookshelf. Her cherished possessions are strewn across the bloodied floor, some cut open, others burned to melted puddles on the ground. The glass case that held the onyx duck I had bought for Vee is smashed apart, the contents empty, and the fowl missing.

From what I can see, three dead bodies are strewn across the room, golden bird masks strapped to their faces and spattered with fresh blood. Deep, linear gashes run all across their flesh, oozing thick red liquid into the carpets and pooling along the stone floor. I have no doubt it’s the work of the tigers, and I gaze around the room for any signs of Sviato or Savyne, my heart falling when I come up with nothing.

With nothing left to do but hope they managed to escape through the open door, I gaze around the room for signs of Vee.

“Vee? Are you here?” My knees wobble as I stand there, holding my breath and praying for a word, a sound—anything to tell me Vee is alive.

And then I hear it—a gasp.

“Vee!” I rush around the island in the kitchen. I’m so happy, so overjoyed that she’s still alive, but my relief is cut short when I take in her state—at the dying light of her aura. There’s a deep, oozing gash sliced diagonally across her chest, spreading across her blouse and staining it red. Her skin—normally so vibrant and tan—glows pale in the flickering kitchen light, a thick sheen of sweat coating every exposed inch. She sucks small, shuddering gasps in through slightly parted lips, and with each exhale, a puddle of blood drips farther down the side of her chin.

And her eyes—oh God, her eyes. The calming bloodstone hue I know and love has been replaced with an ugly, milky-gray color. Almost like she’s…blind.

“No.” I fall to my knees in a puddle of blood. “No. Please, no.”

I reach a hand out to touch her, only to yank my arm away as a rattling gasp exits Vee’s lips. Her eyes pop wide as she reaches up, her clouded eyes staring somewhere over my shoulder as she caresses my face. Thin lips pull upward, causing deep wrinkles to form in the corners of her eyes and mouth, but they only serve to make her look more beautiful.

“Is that you, Aaron?” she whispers. Her voice is a dying croak, but despite that, it’s filled with so muchjoy.And that look on her face… seeing it now, I realize I’ve never once seen Vee truly happy in all the years I’ve known her.

Aaron…

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