Page 200 of Boy of Ruin
Jeremiah is shouting my name, trying to snatch the back of my shirt. We both got dressed quickly, me in the tank top I was wearing, the cotton shorts. But Jeremiah is yelling for me, and I don’t care.
I don’t care.
Because I picked up that knife he’d threatened Lucifer with, and I have it in my hand now. My other hand is sliding along the banister of the stairs, and this feels like racing to my husband in the night. Trying to get to him before the nightmares ate his fucking mind.
This feels exactly like that, except I know he won’t try to kill me tonight.
No, the only person murdering anyone will be me.
And unlike he did that night, I won’t stop.
I hear loud shouts from the door as I hit the stairs, Jeremiah still clambering after me, yelling my name.
I ignore him, tearing down the hall, through the living room.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lucifer is shouting, his voice full of barely restrained fury.
My bare feet skid on the floor but I keep going, my palms growing sweaty as I see the doorway.
Maddox fucking Astor standing in front of the door, completely naked.
My breath catches in my throat, but I see he’s got a gun in his hand, and he’s aiming at Lucifer.
My mouth drops open.
Jeremiah runs into me, sending me forward, toward the foyer, through the threshold of the living room. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me back into his chest. Then he seems to see what I see.
Maddox. Fucking. Astor. Naked. With a goddamn gun.
His biceps are flexed as he keeps the gun trained on my husband, who is glaring at Maddox, his head cocked to the side, hands by his sides, as if he isn’t being threatened with a weapon two feet from his head.
Maddox’s wrists are red, his hands a strange, purple color.
His jaw is clenched, and I think he’s staring at me. I grip the knife tighter in my hand, but I can’t move, because Jeremiah is holding me firmly to him. Until he lets go of me, steps around me, blocking my view.
Blocking Maddox’s view of me.
And I realize, though, that Maddox isn’t looking at me.
His lips curl up into a smile, his pale blue eyes—just like his son’s—are glaring at Jeremiah as I angle my head to see him.
Jeremiah says nothing.
I see Lucifer’s eyes dart to me, his lips pressed together into a line. But then he’s staring back at Maddox, and for a moment, no one speaks.
Until Maddox finally breaks the silence.
As he does, I see the bullet wound in his shoulder, and I force myself not to look any lower than that. Not to think about what he’s done with the rest of his body. Wonder if he tasted me, just once.
How did it feel for him to let me go? To let his own daughter into the hands of Lazar Malikov’s darkness? Whether he knew where I was going or not—and I have no doubt he did—I can’t help wondering how he felt.
Did he ever regret it? Over the past twenty-one years, did it ever keep him up at night? Even once?
But I remember what he said to me when he took me from my own fucking house. I remember how he said he’d sacrifice my baby.
My baby.
Lucifer’s baby.
