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Chapter Thirty-Four

ANGELICA

You’re goingto be the end of us.

Silas’s words were still warm on my lips, his breath a cruel caress over my skin as his grip on my chin tightened—then loosened.

He let me go.

And the moment he did, I stumbled back.

The air in the bathroom was too thick, too hot, too suffocating. I could still feel him against me, his voice coiling through my veins, sinking into my bones.

I was going to be the end of them.

Just as they were going to be the end of me.

I shook my head, stepping back faster now, my body trembling.

The words wouldn’t leave my head. They clung to my skin, seeped into my blood, whispering through the cracks in my mind where that haunting voice didn’t reach. There wasn’t anything left of me, not from him…or them.

I needed to get away from him.

From his eyes.

From the truth.

I turned and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me, locking it, pressing my back against it as I tried to catch my breath.

It didn’t work.

Because that whisper was still there.

Your brothers will never forgive you.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was useless that sickening hiss resounded in my skull.

How long until you kill them too?

“No,” the cry ripped free.

The memories were pushing through, forcing their way in.

The warmth of a gun in my hand.

The smell of blood.

Thethumpas my father’s body hit the floor.

I clapped my hands over my ears, shaking my head, whispering. “No, no, no,” under my breath—but it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

Because I hadn’t just been there the night our parents died.

I’d pulled the trigger.

And this voice—this unmerciful goddamn voice—made me do it.