Page 111 of Fated In Ruin

I looked at the scattered maps, the toppled chairs, the evidence of our failure to stay focused. “Whether we like it or not makes no difference,” I muttered. “As long as we keep Evie safe. That’s all that matters.”

47

EVANGELINE

Icollapsed onto Angel’s plush velvet chaise, throwing my arm over my eyes.

Was I acting a little dramatic?Yes.

Did I want to stomp back downstairs and slap some sense into the three males who had lost their fucking minds?Also yes.

The sounds of arguing filtered up from below, their voices growing louder with each passing minute. Angel perched on the edge of her massive four-poster bed, while Bex poked at the fire like she had a score to settle with the poor logs, sparks spilling out onto the imported Persian rug, which was both ancient and priceless.

“Careful. Riordan will kill us if you set that on fire.”

Even though they’d razed the entire dining room.

I stuffed a puffy, magenta pillow under my head. I’d spent days picking out the décor for this room, and my sister had insisted everything be either purple or pink and while it looked like a bubblegum machine had thrown up all over everything, the dark jewel tones of the rug really pulled everything together.

Without it, my entire color scheme fell apart.

“Seriously? We are all going to die, and they can’t put their pride aside long enough to work together for five minutes?” I groaned. “You should see the dining room. Trashed beyond repair.”

“Males,” Bex muttered, running her hands through her dark curls. “Give them a crisis and instead of working together, they just try to out-alpha each other.”

Angel shifted on the bed, the silk sheets rustling beneath her as she tried to get comfortable. “We’re all going to die? That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?” She shook her head. “Unless there’s something you want to fill us in on?”

I sat up, meeting both their gazes. “We lost Ravok. He’s just…vanished.” I chewed on my bottom lip, going over the awful scenario Malachi had laid out. “There were hardly any thralls at the Silverwood compound, and the few that were left, we killed.”

“Well…” Angel’s mouth worked over the words. “I guess that’s good, right? If he doesn’t have an army, then those are less enemies we have to fight?” I nodded slowly, studying her baby bump, a white lie already forming on my tongue to soothe her nerves.

But…I should tell her the truth about Silas. I couldn’t lie about this, even though I’d tried to shield her from as much ugliness as I could these past weeks.

“Yes, his army is gone, but…” I met her gaze, “Silas was one of the thralls, Angel. He’s dead.” I sighed, my emotions still playing tug of war over how I felt about his demise. “He’s…better off dead. And it’s what he wanted.”

“Oh.Oh.” Angel’s voice came out strangled. “I thought I’d be happy, but I’m just…”

“I know.” I shook my head. “I despised him, but…I won’t lie. It was awful. And Malachi explained why they’re all…like they are.” I gave them a shortened, watered down, non-graphic version of why Ravok’s thralls were rotting, leaving them both faintly horrified.

But wait, there’s more.

“But Malachi has a theory of why Ravok decidednowwas the time for him to awaken, and it’s not because we’ve invented chicken nuggets and the internet.” Even my nightmares couldn’t have come up with a worse scenario than the one I explained, how Ravok could become almost a god, or maybe an actual god, depending on how deep into this nightmare one wanted to delve.

The voices below us rose and fell.

Those three males werepissing me off.

“We don't have time for this.” I punched the pillow so hard one of the buttons popped off. “War is coming and we are wasting valuable time. Either they work together, or we all…” I took a long look at my pregnant sister. “Well, it’s not going to be good.”

A particularly loud shout from below made us all wince. I recognized Blake’s voice, followed by the unmistakable sound of something shattering.

“Impressive,” I sighed. “I honestly didn’t think there was anything left to break.”

Bex leaned against one of the bed's ornate posts. “I’ve actually heard of The Darkening. My Moonma said she saw it happen once, back in the Old Country.”

“Moonma? Old Country?”

I raised my brows and she explained, “We called my gram Moonma, it’s like a…sweet vampire nickname. In Europe, the older generations call it the Old Country. It’s kind of a sentimental things, I guess. But her story stuck with me, because it was just so…un-Moonma-like. She was always so bright and lively, when she talked about dark things, you paid attention.”

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