Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(30)

Shit. Shit.

Waleron stood a few feet away, the eyes on his Ink bright red as it slithered on his neck. “I told you, I warn once. Six months.”

Six months? The bastard was putting me in Rest?

I reached for the doorknob, twisted, and then collapsed onto my back. I fought like hell to keep my eyes open, straining against the heavy weight that refused to give way to my impenetrable will. I tried to urge my Ink to rise, but it was too late. I was too late.

“I promised her. Don’t lock her away again,” I said to Waleron. “Christ, what he made her do… You know what it’s like to be abused, Waleron. Give her the choice… find another way…”

I slipped into the hell of Rest.





I FROZE, HAND CURLED around the handle of the hairbrush, when I heard Kilter’s roar from upstairs.

“Kilter,” I breathed. Goose bumps rose and my stomach dropped.

I listened. There was no movement. No scuffling. But I heard his words, ‘You will destroy what’s left of her.’ Oh God, they were talking about me. Kilter warned me they wanted to take me somewhere.

There was a loud thump and crash and then more shouting.

I had no choice.

I tossed the hairbrush on the floor and ran to the end of the bed, shoved my feet into the running shoes Anstice had given me, and ran to the window. I undid the latch and pushed it open before punching my fist through the screen.

It took three tries to pull myself up onto the window ledge and climb out. The window was ground level and I wiggled out on my stomach.

When I crawled all the way through, I looked back with some crazy hope I’d see Kilter, to know he was okay and, yeah, even wanting him to stop me.

My eyes caught the blade lying on the dresser, one of Kilter’s knives he normally kept in his boot. It was smaller than the one he secured to his thigh. A sharp pain shot through my chest and I silently ached inside, afraid to leave him, but knowing from the sounds upstairs that this was my only choice.

Kilter, I’m sorry. Please understand, I can’t risk it.

The image of him looking down at me as I sat on the bathroom floor in the compound filtered into me. The surprise, the relief, and then the hope. He’d given that to me.

Yet staying was a risk I couldn’t take.

I climbed to my feet and snuck across the yard, hiding behind shrubs and trees, making my way to the iron gate. There was no one around, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t come after me.

Would Kilter? Would he run with me? God, of course not. He was a Scar like them.

The cool spring breeze sifted through my hair and my heart calmed as my body rejuvenated as nature lent me its strength. I didn’t know why I always felt stronger in the sun, moon, rain, and wind, but it was as if it fed me life.

I leaned up against a tree, catching my breath, legs shaking and feeling as if they were ready to snap in half. They were so weak.

It was too late for nature to feed me life. I was dying. I barely functioned normally any longer with the few nutrients I consumed. It had crept up on me day by day then week by week, losing more and more weight. At first, I’d stopped eating to suppress my abilities. Then it had become my control and reward. It became my escape—my hiding place where no one could reach me in this empty shell.

I looked toward the house, but didn’t see anyone coming after me. I pushed away and took off down the driveway toward the gate. My body slammed into it, hands gripping the bars, heart pounding, limbs trembling.

I glanced over my shoulder to the house. Afraid to leave. Afraid to stay.

God, Kilter, what am I doing? Who can I trust?





Anstice and Keir had warned me Kilter was oddly protective of Rayne; however, I hadn’t expected having to put him in Rest. I didn’t like putting any Scar in Rest, except Tarek. That * deserved death for what he did to Delara.

Jedrik collapsed onto the couch, Hack beside him, books scattered at their feet. Anstice crouched beside Kilter’s motionless body on the floor and checked his pulse.

“That was seriously f*cked up,” Jedrik said.

Keir walked over to Anstice, putting his hand on her shoulder, and she glanced up at him. “He’s okay. I don’t understand though. I know he felt responsible for her, but he—”

Jedrik finished off her sentence. “Lost it?”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “To him, Rayne is Gemma all over again.”

“Gemma?” Anstice asked.

“The woman Kilter loved over a century ago,” Keir replied. “She was there when his brother, Ulrich, kidnapped him then had him tortured.”

I continued, “He’s trying to protect Rayne where he thinks he failed Gemma. What he refuses to listen to is that he owes nothing to Gemma.”

Jedrik looked at me. “Rest is harsh.”

I kept my expression neutral. “He shouldn’t have attacked us. He knew the consequences.” I ran my finger over my Ink when I felt the burning of its eyes on my skin. “Rayne cannot repair if he tries to do it for her. She needs time to heal.”

“He’s cold as ice,” Anstice remarked, her hand on Kilter’s head.

“That’s normal, love,” Keir said.

Anstice was new to the Scars and had never encountered a Scar put into Rest. Kilter’s body would shut down until I removed him from Rest.