Page 163 of Wrath

She stepped closer, consuming my vision, and I noted the silver blade in her hand.

This bitch was going to kill me.

Fuck that.

Fuck her.

The fury inside me lit like a match, and suddenly, I held a familiar object in my right hand. I twisted my head slightly to see the hell dagger glinting ominously in the stream of moonlight.

Z lunged at me with a scream, but I rolled out of the way and jumped to my feet. I rushed at her with an almost blistering speed, not giving myself a chance to think or second-guess myself.

I plunged the dagger into my double’s chest.

Shock splayed across her face briefly, and a muscle in her cheek fluttered. Her gaze flickered from my face to the dagger and then back to my face. A manic giggle fled her lips, along with a drizzle of blood.

“Z…”

A poignant silence stretched between us as we stared at each other—blue eyes locked on blue eyes. A roaring sound rushed between my ears, and then my surroundings began to warp.

Where there was once nothing but darkness, I now saw the towering spires of the capitol building, along with flaming trees and carefully tended gardens—now stained in blood and whatlooked like ash. The blonde hair before me turned red, and the blue eyes shifted to a verdant shade of green.

Aaliyah.

My hand trembled where it held the handle of the dagger, still burrowed in my sister’s chest.

“Z…” Aaliyah whispered again as I ripped the blade from her flesh.

She began to slide to the ground, and instinctively, I caught her, my emotions crashing together like a maelstrom.

When I stared into my sister’s eyes, I saw no darkness. No anger. No malevolence. There was nothing but vulnerability and a deep well of sadness. Tears hung on her eyelashes as she blinked up at me.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, pain filling her eyes and carving deep grooves in the planes of her face.

Her chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm.

I didn’t know what to say, what to do. This was my sister who had tried to kill me, my mates, and my friends more times than I cared to count.

Yet, without all of that insidious magic, she looked incredibly young. Vulnerable.

Panic welled up in me, and I desperately placed my hands over the wound on her chest, trying to staunch the bleeding.

“I just wanted you to love me,” she said, her lips barely moving.

The longing in her eyes felt like a sucker punch to my stomach.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this.” Just like when I’d killed S, my heart broke all over again.

Everything inside me seemed to shatter at once. And I knew that, when I came back together, I’d never be the same.

Aaliyah’s chest gave one last rattling heave, and then she went still, her eyes wide and sightless.

Dead.

My sister was finally dead.

I’d killed her.

I didn’t know if I could ever recover from this.

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