Page 211 of Sins of the Hidden

Every muscle seized. Nothing moved but her knife. Limbs seized, muscles rigid, skin prickling with icy dread. She stalked toward me. She rushed suddenly, and I scattered backward, hip slamming into an end table, sending a crystal vase exploding across the floor. The sound didn't register through the thundering in my ears as the edge sliced through air toward my face. I jerked sideways but not fast enough—it caught my thigh, warmth soaking hot down my leg, jeans instantly drenched, clinging to the wound like a second skin.

Knees slammed against the floorboards, hands skidding across the rough wood. Fingernails snagged, snapping sharplyas splinters bit beneath them. Still, I crawled forward, skin scraping away, leaving streaks in my wake.

Each breath seared. Chest convulsed, ribs aching under the pressure. Bile flooded my tongue as my throat constricted, strangling any sound that might have saved me.

"Where do you think you're going?" Daphne's voice cut through the air, sharp as the metal in her hand. "I'm not done with you."

Her hand clamped around my ankle, nails puncturing skin, dragging me back toward her with impossible strength. I kicked wildly, heel connecting with something solid. The impact vibrated up my leg but didn't loosen her grip. Fingernails splintered as I clawed desperately at the floor, each ragged inhale burning my lungs. Bones ground painfully under her grip, a cry building that had nowhere to go as my airway seized.

She flipped me suddenly, with brutal force that knocked the wind from my chest. A stranger loomed over me, nothing recognizable in those features. Teeth bared in a wicked grin, flecks of spittle landing on my cheeks as she leaned closer, the tip of her blade hovering inches from my eye.

"Pathetic," she spat, saliva mingling on my skin. Her laugh was broken glass ripping through the air, a sound so hollow my bowels loosened. She was going to kill me here, on this floor, and V would find nothing but scraps of what I had been.

My body jerked without rhythm, limbs moving on instinct while my mind splintered. Images flashed of V finding my body. Of him coming too late. V's eyes would be empty forever if I didn't make it back. That metal on my finger, those promises extinguished forever. I pressed it to my lips, tasting the surface, a desperate message to V through the connection. The thought sent a fresh wave through me, giving just enough strength to pull myself further away, leaving a smeared trail in my wake.

She was behind me. Her presence weighed like a physical burden, the air thick with copper and something else—something rotten beneath her expensive perfume, as if her soul was decaying inside her beautiful shell. She loomed overhead, her deranged expression alarming. Teeth too sharp, too white against the stain smeared across her chin like she'd been feasting on something—or someone—before I arrived.

"He thinks he deserves a normal life," she hissed, her shadow falling across me like a shroud.

Who was “he?

Even my jaw convulsed, limbs twitching beyond control. Cold sweat soaked through clothes despite the heat rushing through my veins. This couldn't be the woman who praised my baking. Not this monster with dead eyes and stained hands.

The door exploded inward, fragments shot across the room like bullets, one grazing my cheek deep enough to send warmth trickling down my jaw. Through the dust and debris, a hulking man emerged, silhouetted against the outside light. Broad shoulders filled the doorway, heaving heavily.

Chet staggered toward me, each step leaving wet prints on the hardwood. His shirt clung to his torso, saturated and dripping, the fabric torn to reveal a gaping wound at his side. Each movement caused fresh rivulets to spill over his belt, pooling at his feet. The scent hit me—iron-rich and meaty—yet his expression showed no acknowledgment of the damage. His stare burned through the horror clouding my vision, hardening into something that promised violence for anyone who stood between us.

He scanned my body with clinical efficiency before softening when our eyes met, the steel in them melting. "You good, sweetheart?"

Teeth chattered against each other, a mindless nod was my only response.

"Chet." Daphne's voice changed, sweetened with a familiarity that made my blood turn to ice. "You weren't supposed to be here tonight."

Chet's attention snapped to her. Hatred radiated off him, but not surprise. "Finally showing how much of a bitch you really are?"

Daphne's brows dipped. The knife wavered. "What are you talking about?"

Chet laughed without warmth. "I've always known who you are."

The color drained from her face as understanding dawned. "You... all this time?"

"I owed someone a favor." His lips twisted into a cruel curve.

Her expression twisted with fury. "Five years," she whispered, her voice cracked like something inside her tore. "And you felt nothing?"

"Wasn't hard." Chet shrugged, edging me backward. "You're painfully boring."

"How could you fucking do this to me?" Daphne's voice dropped to a whisper, tears glistening in her eyes. With a guttural cry, she lunged at Chet, aiming straight for his heart. He barely sidestepped, his reflexes slowed by blood loss and fatigue. The knife sliced through the air where his chest had been a split-second before.

"Always so fucking dramatic," Chet growled, his fist connecting with her jaw. The impact knocked her sideways, her body crashing into an end table. Fragile picture frames shattered across the floor, glass mixing with the already spilled shards. She scrambled to her feet, lips pulled back in a snarl that bared teeth stained with someone else's fluids.

"I gave you everything!" she spat, circling him now, the silver edge weaving hypnotic patterns through the air between them.

"We were in an open relationship for a reason." His focus never left her, his body shifting to maintain position between her and me. "Had to shower and puke after every time I fucked you."

Her lip curled. She shook with something sharp enough to cut. "It was all a fucking game to you."

Her words didn't even make Chet flinch. His expression remained cold, calculating beneath the contempt. He lunged at her, his towering form moving with unexpected speed, catching her arm at the wrist. Their bodies slammed together, locked in a violent struggle that shook the walls. The steel hovered between them, trembling with the conflicting forces of their strength as he tried to force it away from his throat while she fought to drive it home. She was eerily strong, her slender body containing power that seemed impossible, her arm barely giving an inch despite Chet's superior size and position.

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