Page 55 of Anathema
His head sagged forward under the hood as if he had nothing left to give. The sick bastard put me on the spot, in front of all of his dedicated members, to end the life of a man who betrayed his oath.Fucking why?
What part of morally black and fucked up did you not understand? I know you aren’t that dark.Eli’s words rang through my head as I finally understood the magnitude of the situation I had put myself in.
I was dark, but he was right. I wasn’t as dark as them; I wasn’t as dark as Adrian. His black suit was more than just for looks. It was the color of his soul.
My eyes tracked their way back to Adrian’s toxic green gaze just as he stepped forward to pull the hood that covered Jameson's head. I sucked in a breath as I took in the man restrained before me, and my heart sank into a bottomless pit.
“Alexis, let me introduce you to your third and final task.” A palm pressed into my back, and I was pushed forward to stand less than a foot away from the young man on his knees. I couldn’t pull my attention from Jameson as he tilted his head up, his blue eyes glistening with unspent tears, and the handle of a knife slipped into my open palm beside me.
“Do you understand the violations you have committed against your community?” Adrian asked him, and he nodded, his gaze not leaving mine.
“Adrian, I—” The words were a whisper, just under my breath.
“Sure you can, Alexis. This is what we do here. And if you can’t…” Adrian leaned in to murmur into my ear. “Well then, you are useless to us—just like him.” His words were harsh and unforgiving.
There wasn’t even a hint of sympathy in his voice. He didn’t give a fuck. This was exactly what Eli had warned me about—the only way out of Anathema—death. I guess I just never thought that I would be the one to deliver it to any of the existing members, not even as a task. Rules are made to be broken, but not theirs.
I didn’t recognize the man before me, but he had to have been no older than Derek and appeared as though he wouldn’t harm a fly. Jameson didn’t belong here. There was nothing about him that screamed, ‘I’m a murderous member of Anathema,’and I could see the defeat written across his hollow face.
Jameson didn’t bother speaking; he knew what was coming and had no way out—acceptance of his fate. I’m sure he wanted this to all be over, to end his suffering and anticipation of what was to come. I hoped Adrian wouldn’t expect me to torture him.
Where was Chyler to take this burden away from me like she always did? Protecting me from the things I couldn’t bring myself to do.
Adrian has stated that this man broke all of their rules by discussing Anathema’s work, harming other members, and making deals with government agencies.
Why would someone break all three rules if they knew the consequences to come? Who would be stupid enough to break every single rule, knowing they were signing their death warrant?
These rules… Derek…I sucked in a breath as his name skated across my lips. Jameson was a dark premonition for what fate awaited me.
“Alexis.” Adrian snapped, his voice growing impatient as I stood there, knife in hand, staring down at the person I was supposed to kill. Not only to make a statement but to complete my third and final task. My hand began trembling as I tightened my grip on the handle.
I could do this. Couldn’t I? What was stopping me? I didn’t know him; he had no emotional connection to me. And yet, every fiber of my being was telling me to run. Drop the knife and fucking run. My breaths quickened, and I raised the knife, peering down at my reflection in the blade. Was this me? Was I a murderous monster who killed without question? Just doing as I was told, like a good little mercenary? I sure as fuck felt small in this moment.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath before opening them again, staring into the eyes of a woman I no longer recognized. A woman who was going to end the life of someone just because she was told to do it, isolated in a room, surrounded by over a hundred cloaked figures that would bear witness.
I’ve done worse. I can do this. Just this once.
With a long, exaggerated blink, I dragged my gaze to meet those of Jameson, who hadn’t removed his blue eyes from mine once since the hood was removed from his head. As I gripped his shoulder with my free hand, I mouthed the words‘I’m sorry’before plunging the knife deep into his chest, straight through his rapidly beating heart.
This wasn’t personal; it was survival.
A deep grunt and a couple of strangled breaths were all that came from him before his body went limp and collapsed to the floor. I could have slit his throat, but I couldn’t fathom the idea of spilling blood all over the dais and listening to his gargled screams as he fought for his life. He didn’t deserve that, at least not from me. Unlike Monika and Abigail, I held no grudge or reason to end Jameson's life; in my eyes, he was nothing more than innocent.
A hand squeezed my shoulder, and I cringed, the bubble that surrounded me bursting and dropping me back into the Anathema central hideout with Adrian looming over me. The grim reaper claiming his prize.
“Not what I had expected from you. I had hoped for more show and blood, but you completed the task nonetheless.” Adrian's tone was bored, showing a hint of disappointment, like a father who noticed their child got a B instead of an A on a school assignment.
The longer I stood there, the more my guilt began to eat at me, the pieces being replaced with anger towards Adrian. Hands fisting at my sides, I could feel the wildfire burning inside of me, ready to explode.
I snapped my eyes to his.
“We need to talk. Alone.” I demanded, pushing the small amount of confidence I had left into my words.
Somewhere along the line, I had lost myself to Derek—to Adrian. Two sides to a fucked up coin that was my life now. Once upon a time, I was a vicious killing machine who didn’t care about anyone but herself. Then Derek came into my life, and now I didn’t know who the fuck I was.
Was I a lover? A killer? Could I still be both?
Fuck sake, killing this man shouldn’t have been this hard. Cause this much resentment and guilt to gnaw at my bones. It should have been fun, easy, a head on a silver fucking platter.
