Page 84 of The Witch's Heart
“She showed me what you did,” I say. “What you’ve done to every woman in my family since.”
His eyes glitter with a malice that is only barely contained. “As you might have guessed, this is so much bigger than just saving your sister. It is also much more important than even my beloved Genevieve.” He pins me with a look that makes me shiver with the violence it promises. “This is about me becoming the powerful creature I was meant to be. When I’m done, every human, vampire, witch, and werewolf will bow. And the ones who don’t will pay.”
Obey or pay. Seems to be his theme.
I roll my eyes, so tired of the blade’s edge I’ve been perched on. And for what? A broken heart? A lover’s need for petty retribution?
“Do you hear yourself?” I ask. “You went through one breakup and completely lost your shit. It’s ridiculous—”
His hand blurs with a movement too fast for my eyes to track.
I only know what he’s done when his palm makes contact with my cheek.
I gasp, the wind nearly knocked out of me at the force of just one blow.
Cutter leaps from his chair and roars, canines suddenly lengthened as he hisses at me. Shrinking back in my chair, I try to breathe. And think. And come up with some response that won’t end with my throat ripped out right here where I sit.
“You can still do the right thing,” I half-whimper.
He doesn’t answer, but after several ragged breaths, he backs away and returns to his seat.
My face stings where he struck me, and my skull throbs from the earlier abuse I endured. But through it all, I force myself to think.
There must be a way out.
Around me, the spirits of the departed weep and mourn, but I don’t see Genevieve among them. The idea that she has given up and abandoned me to my fate is almost too much to bear.
I look up as Cutter’s expression clears. He cocks his head as if listening to something I can’t hear. A second later, the door opens and Nurse Schmidt walks in followed by Sir and Logan.
My eyes widen at the sight of the doctor, and I bite back his name on my tongue.
But it wouldn’t matter.
His eyes are glazed over with the evidence of whatever illusion Schmidt has spun around him.
They each push a wheeled gurney with a body draped in a sheet.
I strain to see the faces of the newcomers, but they’re completely covered.
“Any problems?” Cutter asks.
“None,” Schmidt assures him.
“Good, set them up and let us begin. I’m ready to finish this.”
Schmidt, Sir and Logan position the gurneys, two on one side of where Cutter and I sit, and one on the other. Logan backs away until he stands against the far wall. I try to catch his eye, but he refuses to look at me. His expression is slack, his eyes empty as he stands at the ready, hands folded in front of him.
“What did you do to L—Dr. Livingstone?” I correct myself at the last minute, reluctant to let them know how close we’ve gotten. Instead, I glare at Schmidt, but she ignores me and instead reaches for the sheet covering the closest patient.
Her smug gaze flicks to me as she rips off the first sheet followed quickly by the second.
My eyes widen at the sight of Dean and Declan lying unconscious on the gurney. They’re human again, each wearing only a pair of gym shorts.
“Dean? Declan?” I call.
But they don’t stir.
“What have you done to them?” I scream.
