Page 49 of A Broken Promise

Especially not in cold blood.

I wasn’t worried that I wouldn’t be able to do it.

Because I would.

But I was anxious about the life after. Would his face forever stay in my mind? Would I enjoy it or hate it?

The unknown scared me. I willed myself to stay still, to relax my muscles. I was ready. I had lived long enough as a victim; now it was time to learn to be the executioner too.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when Priya knocked very loudly on the door. A coarse male voice sounded deep in the cabin.

“Comin’.”

My heightened senses could hear each step of the man approaching the door, each step like thunder. Did he ever think today would be his last day? Did he realize these were the last steps he’d take? Last breaths to breathe?

Priya didn’t seem to care.

A man in his early fifties opened the door. He was average build; his clothes worn out and a few days-old gray stubble on his pale face.

His eyes widened with fear, yet there was no shock or surprise. Only acceptance of defeat.

“Priya.” He recognized her.

“Hello, baker,” she purred, slipping into a hungry predator voice.

He didn’t have a chance to blink as she blew the dark purple powder she was holding in her fist straight into his face.

Our faces were already wrapped with bandanas.

The purple powder covered his entire face. A single cough. Priya stood still, carefully waiting until his body hit the floor a second later.

I knew the powder. It came from the Bellaroot mushrooms, usually used in sleeping tonics, yet in this form mixed with Ionna flower pollen, it worked like a sleeping charm. A little could distract, but if the person inhaled enough of it, it sent them off to a deep sleep.

We acted fast and yet I could feel each minute lasting too long. Each second, as we dragged his body to one of the chairs in his two-bedroom log cabin; each second, we took to tie him up, his legs, his wrinkled arms.

I was waiting for the cue. An order from Priya to take his life. But she just watched him cautiously, as if he was a prized statue in one of the Svitar’s museums. Something inside of me stirred anxiously,almost craving the destruction, the power—yet another part of me stilled and hesitated.

A life would be lost today because of me, byme. A red line for me to cross and never come back.

“I want him to be awake for this,” Priya said, her face full of power and high on excitement.

She pulled another chair away from the round table. Turning it around, she sat across it, resting her arms on the back of the chair, twisting a long, curved dagger in her hand.

I leaned against the wall, occasionally glancing out the window. There was nothing but nature. The birds were singing their cheerful melody, so unaware of the death settling around them.

Priya growled, the only sign that she’d just ran out of patience. It’d been less than ten minutes since we knocked. She lasted longer than I expected.

Impatiently, she kicked his leg without getting up from her chair.

Groaning, a few minutes later, he finally opened his heavy eyelids. Bright green eyes shone through them. He didn’t tug at the ropes, just looked at us, at me. I saw the dread in those eyes, the defeat and the silent request.

“Long time no see, Jonah. Missed me?” Priya purred at him while picking her nails with her dagger. “I must admit, you were quite a hassle to locate, so I have to give you credit for that.”

“I knew it was always going to be you, wasn't it? Mel, sent me a letter saying you were gone, and I’ve been waiting since then.” His voice was full of regret. A voice of a person who had given up.

“Oh, sweet old Mel. She was so quick to send out warnings and yet so slow to die.” Priya rolled her eyes dramatically.

This was a show for her. A performance.

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