Page 16 of Our Vicious Descent
Marble grated against her palms as Elise dug her fingers into the sink. She ground her teeth together and glared at Sterling. The heat of her anger flourished in her, burning every inch of the much gentler guilt. This reaper’s venom might have caused her rage to grow teeth. “There is one thing you can do for me: get me a gun.”
9
Layla scowled at her cracked reflection in the mirror. At some point, during one of her nightmares, she had shattered the glass. All she could remember was waking up with glass littering the carpet around her room and shards lodged beneath her skin after it had healed over.
“Are you coming down, Layla? We’re waiting for you,” Laure called through her bedroom door.
“One more minute,” Layla replied.
The longer Layla sat there waiting, the more cowardly she likely appeared to her clan. The truth was, however, she did not fear losing to Julius. She feared what she would do to him if she allowed her anger to feed the poison inside her. The monster she would turn into would further strain her relationship with not just her clan mates but every reaper who heard about her brutal victory.
Another knock sounded at her door, and Layla bit back a growl of frustration. “I said—”
The door flew open so roughly, one of its hinges broke from the wall. Several Saint members and police officers barreled into her room, seizing her and securing her with chains before she could even fully realize what was happening. The Saint metal burned her wrists so badly, all she could do was hiss in pain and keep breathing so she did not pass out as they dragged her downstairs into the hotel foyer.
The center of the hotel had been turned into a dumping ground. Saint associates threw countless reaper belongings onto the growing pile of possessions. Several other reapers, chained and bloody, kneeled around the pile. Saint members held a gun to the backs of their heads. One Saint shoved Layla to the front of the group, just feet away from Julius.
The older reaper grumbled something beneath his breath, and the Saint standing behind him shoved his gun into his skull.
With the amount of blood filling the air, Layla struggled to ground herself. She searched the room, trying to find the Saint associate leading the raid. Sterling Walker stood by the bottom of the grand staircase, his gun out and finger poised on the trigger while he watched his men bring out more reapers. Nothing could have prepared Layla for what she saw next.
Elise Saint stood in the hotel entryway, covered in blood. It plastered her pretty brown curls to her head and stained her cheeks, which were much gaunter and hollower than Layla remembered them being. The absence of fine clothes looked strange onher—almost more than the blood soaking them. She still wore the same outfit from last night. Her eyes were what Layla could not get past. She had seen a lot of things in Elise, especially when they were younger, and Layla thought she would have died to give her the world. Never had she seen such violent turbulence in this girl’s eyes before. It reminded her only of what a reaper’s wrath was capable of conjuring. Looking at Elise, Layla felt like she was staring into the mirror the night she had been turned all those years ago. The girl standing before her had moved beyond hurt. She was on her way to choosing the path of destruction—a girl on the brink of disaster.
The intense display of Elise’s departure from herself might have been the only reason why Layla did not become consumed with hunger at the sight of her. For once, her fangs stayed put and she could focus on things other than the tempting scent of Elise’s blood beneath the carnage she wore.
No one could have anticipated Elise’s next move. She was across the room and on top of Layla in an instant, her eyes wild and teeth bared in the most rage-filled expression Layla had ever seen on her. A Saint blade pressed into Layla’s throat. Its iciness dug into her neck, the hard edge of the steel biting against her racing pulse.
Elise’s hand shook around the knife, and anguish shone in the deep brown of her eyes. Even with the anger still sharpening her blood-soaked features, Layla could see only the hurt weighing down every part of her soul. Lips quivering, Elise spoke feverishly, her voice heavy and breaking over each word. “You’ve gone too far—”
“Me?” Layla managed to rasp out. Her throat bobbed againstthe knife, and it sliced into her soft skin with gentle ease, drawing blood. “I’ve kept to myself to ensure your safety. You have no idea the sacrifices I’ve made for you.”
“There is no honor in your repeated violence. No matter the name in which you do it. Do not burden me with the responsibilities of your actions. Do not burden me with your blood. Again—” Her voice hitched, and Layla’s blood leaked down her throat, weeping in tandem with the tears that had begun to leak down Elise’s cheeks. “How could you do this to me?”
Layla couldn’t bring herself to fight back. She recognized her old self in this version of the Saint heiress—grief-stricken and full of emotions too big to hold within. The tremor in Elise’s hands grew too strong, and the knife fell from her grip. In turn she pounded into Layla’s chest as she screamed over and over, “You goddamn monster—”
Layla’s breath stuttered out of her, and all she could do was watch and take the Saint’s hits. Beat after beat, the impacts grew weaker with each blow until eventually Sterling hauled her away. He pressed her arms to her chest and muttered furiously to her. But even Layla could tell his words did not reach her. Elise still watched Layla with a heated gaze, her chest rising and falling with an intensity that made Layla’s own heart ache. Dried blood flaked over Elise’s cheeks and fluttered down from her fingers, where her nails had been bitten down to painful-looking stubs. Her teeth created dark red divots from her biting ruthlessly into her lower lip. Even after her frenzied attack, Layla felt urged to be near Elise once more, if only to offercomfort. It went against all that Layla had put herself through the past few months. From the starvation to ensure she never turned herself into a monster by tearing apart another soul, to the forceful way her mind avoided all thoughts of the one person she knew she would otherwise be unable to keep herself away from. She had no choice but to return the ire and spite if it meant maintaining the distance that would keep Elise safe.
“I told you to let me handle this,” Sterling almost barked out.
The heiress remained silent. She pulled the gun from her belt and dropped it with a quickness, as if the weapon had burned her skin. Her eyes roamed over the blood streaked across the handle and barrel. Just the sight of the barest tremble of her hand sent Layla’s emotions returning to the surface. That yearning part of her wanted to go to Elise and take her hands in her own. She wanted to wipe the blood from her face and tell her it would be okay. But such a lie would only have worse consequences. She couldn’t even tell whose blood stained her Saint gun—reaper or human. The sight made Layla tense with apprehension.
Layla fought to remember where her true loyalties lay. She gritted her teeth against the rising tide of guilt and directed every ounce of poison she could manage at the Saint heiress. “Call your Saints and the police off my clan. You’ve infected my lair like a plague. We had nothing to do with the attack at your estate,” she insisted.
Elise regarded Layla with cold eyes. “We do not know that.”
Layla ignored the sting of her words. Her brows furrowed as she pressed on. “You saw me leave—”
“You and your clan mate, who, by the way, had just said he wanted to kill me and my family hours before the attack. Am I supposed to assume you had no part in that plan? Why on earth would you show up and speak to me for the first time in months on the most important night for my family?” Elise said roughly.
Something bitter and painful pinched Layla’s heart. She struggled to find her next words, her throat closing on the name she had fought so hard to keep herself from saying for the past two months. “I came to turn myself over to your father so his Saints would stop bothering my clan.Elise. Come on. I would never do something like this to you. You know that.” The words came out like a plea for acceptance. Elise’s previous accusation still echoed around her head, haunting her.You goddamn monster.
All Elise offered her was an expression of pure ice. “Not anymore.”
Layla swallowed past a painful lump in her throat. She blinked through tears of frustration and hurt, forcing the guilt to subside as she settled on the one emotion that had faithfully carried her through the worst years of her life. “Fine. If you want to make me out to be a monster so that Harlem may have the drive to hunt me again, go ahead. I survived you once—I can do it again,” she spat out.
Elise showed no reaction to Layla’s anger before she was speaking again, this time with a shaky voice. “How dare you act small after showing us cruelty through mockery.”
“What are you talking about?” Layla asked.
