Page 103 of Savage Sacrifice
I try to separate them, but The Crow flicks my wrist away effortlessly, reminding me of just how helpless I can be as he wraps Asher’s hand around the nose, finger by finger. “Push up, Asher. Push up, and you will have made your sacrifice,” he orders, never actually explaining what the sacrifice is.
I feel the resolute moment take over Asher, a calmness draping over him, one I’m certain he’s never felt before, as he pushes up.
An almighty, harrowing scream fills the room, making me stumble back a step as I instinctively lift both of my hands to my ears, trying to hide from the sound, but it’s futile. The pain is etched into every syllable as I watch the mask break free from The Crow’s face, confirming the haunting sound is coming from the unmasked man as he falls to his knees, shielding his face with his hands.
I gape in horror, shocked as his screams only grow louder, more panicked, but before there’s even a chance for the sound to relent, another joins the mix, only this time, it’s from Asher.
A raspy snarl on the edge of a howl bites through the air as he drops to the floor along with The Crow. The mask is no longerin his hands, but cemented to his face. He pushes and pulls, desperate to get it off, igniting the terror deeper in my soul as I watch them both struggle.
The deep burn of Asher’s pain subsides, the sound becoming nothing more than a distant memory as he slumps to the floor. Terror sweeps through my limbs, and despite the noise still coming from The Crow, I rush to Asher’s side, crouching beside him as I call out his name.
“Asher? Asher! Wake up, Asher,” I call out, shaking him slightly, but he remains on his side, lifeless. I run my fingertips over his throat, breathing a sigh of relief to find his pulse is still fluttering.
Unsure what to do, I run my hand over Asher’s face, calling out his name again and again, desperate for him to hear me, to respond, but nothing comes.
Tears spill down my cheeks, soaking my skin as I plead for him to come back to me, and it’s only when I choke on a hiccup from my tears that I realize the screaming from The Crow has stopped.
Snapping my head in his direction, I find him propped against the far wall beside the desk. Not only is the mask gone, now clinging to Asher instead, but his leather jacket has been tossed aside, along with the hat he discarded earlier.
A bewildered look touches his features as he sits, jaw slack, gaping at Asher. His eyes are bright, so blue they glisten, a complete contrast to the darkness that resided in him a moment ago.
What the hell is going on?
He drags a hand down his face, his worn t-shirt no longer the white I imagine it once was, but now a tea-stained beige that frays along the neckline. He can’t take his eyes off Asher.
“What have you done?” I breathe, venom coating my words as I snarl at him.
It’s as if I break him from a trance, and he quickly rushes to his feet, brushing his short brown waves back off his face. He’s halfway to the door when I chase after him, shoving at his back without warning and making him stumble a step, the door catching his fall.
“I said, what have you done?” I bite, fury raging inside of me. He glances over his shoulder, irritation in his eyes, but it’s nowhere near as sinister as it was when he wore the mask. Oh my God. What has he done to him? “Answer me!” I scream, my hands balling into fists at my sides in an attempt to contain the anger inside of me.
“Wylder needs to find Sian, and whatever you do, don’t fucking lose Bryony,” he states, grabbing the door handle, ready to leave, like that makes any damn sense after whatever the hell he just did to Asher.
“What?” I grunt with a frown, exasperated, and his eyes widen.
“Promise me,” he insists, and I scoff.
“Fuck. You. What have you done to him?” I snap, and he shakes his head, pressing his fingertips into his temples as he meets my stare once more.
“Do it, Polaris. And check the coins. You’ll understand soon enough.”
35
BLAZE
The moment my mind becomes alert, I know two things.
One. I didn’t get enough sleep. An hour max.
Two. I’m not alone.
I can hear the thrumming of another heartbeat, smell the sweet floral scent in the air, and feel the accusatory look raking over me. That means it can only be one person. I spend two seconds considering whether I should stay asleep or not, but it’s pointless. She’ll already know I’m awake now.
“Mother,” I breathe, not bothering to open my eyes as the bed dips at my feet. I don’t need to glance to know she’s making herself comfortable with her back against the wall and her legs crossed at the ankles, her hands folded in her lap. “Let yourself in, why don’t you?” I grumble, reluctantly prying my eyes open to find her in the exact position I predicted.
She rolls her eyes at me dramatically as she waves me off. “Please, I’m your mother,” she insists, and I cock a brow at her.
“I could have been touching myself.”
