Page 69 of Queen of Madness

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

My adrenaline spikes. The knowledge I’m so close to ending just one of the many fools makes my nerves tingle.

Another turn.

I see my red roses. This way, his face is visible from behind the red roses... something’s wrong with the roses.

They’re shining.

Why are they shin—no. They’re dripping.

White petals I didn’t notice before stick out from the red. It’s blood. There’s blood on the roses. Splattered. Painted.

Where is Maddy? Shi? My boys?

WHERE IS MY FAMILY?

“You’re too late. Just like you were for your parents.”

I turn. And then there’s only black.

“Onyx.” Strong hands catch me, jolting me awake. “I got you.”

Instinctively, I want to jerk away from him, but I don’t, and instead allow him to wrap his arms around my back, pulling me into his chest. His warm, woodsy scent invades my airways, calming my tight muscles.

I should hate how he silences the chaos. Hate how he feels good to fall into. Hate that when he takes over, I can finally breathe.

But I don’t.

He’s peace.

My peace.

A warm, heavy hand finds my face, his calloused fingers stroking the length of my jaw. The act makes both dread and lightness expand in my chest, the constant fight of what I secretly want and am terrified of having.

My lashes flutter open, finding the green-and-gold eyes that plague my thoughts. His face is covered in shadows, but immediately, I know something is wrong.

I grab his hand to use as leverage, but then he winces. It’s the smallest twitch in the corner of his eyes but I see it. He’s hurt.

My spine straightens, my finger finding the lamp string and yanking it on.

“What happened?” My eyes instantly snap to his injuries, taking them all in, one at a time.

Light bruises line the sides of his face. Small cuts near his lip, and by his jaw. His brow has the largest abrasion, blood still bright under his butterfly closures. And his knuckles... all of them are busted.

Unwarranted panic seizes my insides, twisting everything until I feel on the verge of sickness. This is precisely why I don’t let myself care. It leads to worrying. To weakness.

A weakness that can be captured and exploited.

“We don’t grow attachments to people, Onyx. They won’t have your tolerance, nor your strength. You’ll know that, and so will the enemy. They will make them suffer because they won’t be able to handle the pain like you can. And after that, it never fails, the enemy will always win.”

My uncle’s words ring in my ear, the constant reminder as to why I never take a partner. Why I don’t entertain the thought of ever becoming like my parents.

“Who did this?” I hold my breath, waiting for him to say the words.

That’s all I need. One syllable of the name I’ve waited to destroy and they’re dead. All of them. I’m exhausted with them mistaking my silence for submission. For them to think they can continue to take what’s mine and not suffer the consequences.

Despite the obvious pain, he smirks, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I tense against him, but he ignores it, tucking a loose hair behind my ear. “It’s nothing.”

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