Page 71 of The Heir
Not after everything she's done.
In quick succession, I shoot at her shoulders. Blood sprays from the joints, and she drops—screaming, wailing, pleading. Her pleas mean fucking nothing.Bloodshot blue eyes stare into my soul and only find hate. Her face twists in agony as I fire off another round directly into her knee.
"You're a fucking vision, love," Dante grunts. I whip around and gaze at my husband—who looks shockingly pale. Fuck. Fuck! Blood pools underneath his leg, staining every fallen twig and leaf.
"Oh, god—babe, you're gonna be okay, I promise." I return my attention to Ella. "You're not."
Dropping the gun, I reach into my pocket for the scalpel. Through some stroke of luck, it didn't stab me. I think. I can't tell whose blood is covering almost every inch of me, and at this point? I don't care. As my fingers close around the metal handle, I fall to one knee in front of Ella. She grits her teeth, panting every wheezing breath. Spittle drips from the corners of her mouth, and sweat pours down her forehead.
She thinks I'm pathetic? She thinks I'm weak? Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her.
The familiar ecstasy of the kill floods my veins as I leave a bloody trail down her neck. The scalpel splits the skin so cleanly. It's like it was never whole. She flails and screams, trying to get away from me, but her arms don't work anymore. Her kneecap has to be completely shattered. There's nowhere to go. She can't hide from me. She can't get away.
The monster in my skull screams with joy as I throw my leg over her chest, sitting squarely on her lungs. Ella bares her teeth at me, snarling through her panicked sobs. The pathetic whimpering rises to an ear-splitting scream when I trail the blade down the other side of her neck. I'm enraptured. Dark crimson beads at the edges of the incision. The droplets grow with every frantic heartbeat.
As I push aside the layer of muscle, I find the vein. The jugular, I think it's called. I press down on it with my thumb and watch it spring back into shape when I release it. Ella's no longer making noises that could be considered human. No, she's far beyond that. She screams with the pitch of a woman who knows she's going to die soon.
With a shuddering breath, I plunge the scalpel into the vein. Dark blood sprays out, drenching my hand, my arm, my face—everything. It's amazing. It's glorious. It's everything I've wanted andsomuch more.
The world melts away. Nothing exists in this moment except for me, Ella, and the blade. My hands tremble as I drag the blade down, opening the vein. Her panicked screams and sobs melt into a horrific gurgling. Her breath rattles and catches in her throat. Blood dribbles from her mouth, and the light leaves her eyes.
I'm safe.
My children are safe.
My husband is safe.
It's over.
Her labored breathing slows, then stops. I tilt her head to the other side, watching for movement, any sign of a pulse. Nothing. There's nothing. She's gone. She's dead. I killed her.
Ella is dead.
"You're exquisite," Dante groans weakly. In a snap, the world returns. The breeze floats through the air, rustling leaves and branches. Birds call in the distance. Frogs sing from their jungle hiding places. Ella doesn't make a sound, but my husband shudders.
He looks so pale. So very, very pale. He's lost a lot of blood. The sight of it doesn't spark any joy in me; it doesn't feed the grinding of bone in the back of my skull. I might be a monster—that much is true, obviously—but never to him.
"You're bleeding," I state dumbly. "Fuck, babe, you're bleedinga lot."
He grins up at me. God, his face. His beautiful face. Those piercing green eyes stare into my soul. His angular jawline is hidden underneath the rugged beard, but surprise, the beard suits him, too. And his inky black hair, normally so polished and sleek, is ruffled and stringy with sweat. Why is he sofuckinghot?
"Worth it to see you work your magic, love," he gasps.
"Not if you fucking die—shit!" I help him up and sling his arm over my shoulder. I can only carry one of the rifles with him leaning on me, but that should be enough. We're not too far from the medical bay. The Eligos has doctors—they helped Melnyk; they can help him.
But his wincing and sharp inhale with every step grip my heart with fear. I can't lose him. I can't fucking lose him. Not now—Ella's dead, and we finally have a fucking chance at happiness. At peace. At everything I've always wanted, and everything he's always promised.
"You're going to be okay, babe, I promise. You are. I swear." I curse my arms and lack of upper body strength. Fuck.
"I know, love. I trust you." His head lolls to the side, and my heart skitters against my ribs. Fuck and shit. Goddamn it. I want to bring Ella back just to kill her again. She can't hurt my man. She fuckingcan't.
But she did. She's dead, but she did.
Dante's feet drag along the ground as I shoulder his weight, stumbling back to the medical facility.
"Someone! Anyone! We need help—it's me; it's Melody! Dante's been shot!" I scream, praying to all the gods I don't believe in that someone on our side is listening. I have no idea how many more Seraph people are here. I don't give a shit, either. I just need Dante to be okay. I promised him.
Dante
