Page 85 of Make Me A Sinner
-Serena-
Whiro leads me downstairs, through dim-lit hallways, straight into a large wine cellar with a leather couch, an armchair, and an old phonograph.
“Have a glass of whatever you want, just don’t leave this room before I come get you. Set will kill me if anything happens to you.” He winks, knowing damn well what he’s doing. He’s talking as if Set will make it. And his confidence gives me a drop of hope.
I can’t hear anything, and I suspect the place is soundproof, so the only thing I can do is pour myself a glass of wine to calm my nerves and turn on the phonograph. There’s already a record loaded, and an old 1920s tune starts to play. Then another... and another... and another... until I lose track. But right before I start to worry the record might end, the light goes out and a roar tears through the walls.
It only takes a few seconds before the generator kicks in, lights return, and the music resumes.
I know exactly what that was, and I can’t hold back. A few tears slide down my cheeks. I want to run to Set and see what happened. See him come back to life. But I know it might take more than one lightning strike to get him back to life. And opening this door might end mine.
I can’t stop crying, as much as I want to, and the phonograph’s needle runs on empty, but I can’t even summon the strength to get off the couch to change the record. The weight of it all is crushing me—even though I never expected things to turn out like this.
The door opens way too late for my nerves and Whiro steps inside the room. A blank expression on his face—impossible to read.
I’ve got a bad feeling it’s not good.
I don’t have the patience to wait another second. “Tell me. Tell me now.” My voice is quivering.
Still, Whiro hesitates. “Draco got the bullet. We lost him for a second. Bronte needed to bring him back. But there’s still no change. His body’s not healing. There’s not much we can do.”
“I want to see him.” I walk past Whiro, heading straight for the bedroom where I know Set is. I won’t stop until I get there. Until my arms are wrapped around him again.
But as I advance down the hall, I need to pause for a second to take in the destruction around me. The air is thick with smoke, and as I reach the room where Set was, I notice the door’s barely hanging on, and the place’s nearly unrecognizable. Burnt furniture. Smoldering rugs. Shattered windows. But no sign of Set.
Whiro catches up behind me. “Move,” he mutters, shooting me a glare for not waiting for him. And this time, I’m the one following him down the hall, a few rooms away.
He opens a door, and I barely glance at Draco and the woman inside the room—gorgeous, with rich chocolate skinand a presence that demands attention. I don’t care about introductions, though. All I care about is holding him—having him in my arms. Having him here with me.
I don’t know how long it's been. All I know is I’ve cried so much, my tears have run dry. It’s almost dawn when I see Draco coming to check on him. I crawl off the bed, making room for him to inspect the wound.
Whiro’s here too, holding a cup of coffee, which he hands out to me as I sink into a chair beside him. And even though I just got up from the bed, I feel like I can’t stand, especially when I look at Draco, and he doesn’t show any signs that there’s any improvement.
“Let’s go downstairs, I’ll get you something to eat,” Whiro offers, and the fact that he sounds so normal now scares me to death.
I shake my head as a no. I can’t eat. Can’t even drink this coffee. I can barely breathe.
“Okay. But you need to eat something today. Or I’m not letting you stay in this room.” Whiro threatens me, and I know he’ll follow through.
“Later,” I say, even though the concept of eating is unbearable right now.
“Just let me know what you want and I’ll—” he stops mid-sentence, his gaze sharpening with an intensity I’ve never seen before. He looks... uncomfortable. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say there’s a glint of fear in his eyes. That’s not possible, is it?
I turn to follow his gaze, but before my eyes even reach the door, I catch the same expression on Draco’s face as well.
A tall man stands in the doorway, slowly advancing into the room. He’s dressed all in black, but something about his clothes feels off, like they’re stuck in time. He wears boots and jeans, but over them a long, dark, hooded overcoat. He’s leaner than Whiro and Draco, but still dangerously attractive. He’s magnetic in thatstrange, otherworldly way I can’t explain—like a dark aura clings to him. Every god I’ve met carried this darkness, but his is on another level.
Draco steps aside, making room for the man, careful to get out of his way as soon as possible. The stranger advances towards Set, his every step like a premonition that something bad is about to happen.
Dread coils in my gut, but I need Whiro to confirm it. “Who is that?” I whisper, urgency in my voice. Still, he stays silent. “Who is that?” I press, my voice rising. He must know I’m not letting this go.
He signals for silence. “Thanatos,” he whispers—like dropping the name alone at me might calm me down.
But I know that name. I know what Thanatos means.
“Death?” I ask, and the look in Whiro’s eyes confirms it. He steps in closer to me, like he wants to quiet me, not to draw attention. The fuck I’m not going to draw attention. “No!” I scream at Death itself, rushing toward the bed to get to Set. “No!” I scream again as Whiro grabs at me, and Draco blocks my way while Thanatos seems to ignore me completely.
“It’s his decision. Stand back.” Draco warns, but I fight Whiro, struggling to escape his grip. I fight him so hard, I almost break free.
