The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(67)
She had been angry, she said, distraught from the fight. She hadn’t meant it.
Too late, Nico argued. Her body had spoken the words her lips refused and he would not be denied.
Nico had frightened her with the steel of his resolve. But not as much as her own heart had frightened her, breaking beneath the leaden weight of guilt. She could not tell Christan—his rage would burn hotter than before. He would see her betrayal and never understand her pain. She was a coward. Worse, she would compound her sin and run from the final condemnation in his eyes. She had nothing left. There was no way to escape what she’d done.
She went to the chapel, put the flame to one last candle, prayed Nico would fail in his vendetta. In return, her penance would be exile. She was prepared to run. Did run. Silently, as she passed through the dark, reached the moon-shot road where trees would conceal her movements.
But the air shifted. Nico appeared and she was too terrified not to stop.
Her dress was simple, veined with purple shadows. Her possessions were in a bag made of tapestry, shot with threads of green and gold. It sat at her feet, having dropped unnoticed from her hand. Her books were there, the single letter from her parents before they died, the few gold coins her sister sent to her. Everything else she left behind.
“Gemma,” Nico said in a voice she didn’t recognize. “Why are you running? Are you afraid?”
An answer, clawing at her throat. Sweat, liming her skin with ice. She began to shiver, either from fear or the damp, she didn’t know—but it didn’t really matter, not in the grander scheme of things. Because, yes, she was afraid.
“Please, Nico,” she whispered. “I take it all back. Do not stain your soul on my behalf.”
“Too late,” he said. “You cannot save me; my soul is already black.”
His expression turned cruel. She saw the blade at his waist, flinched when his hand cupped her face. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek where tears left wet tracks, then pressed hard. A sound carried from the trees and was echoed by Nico’s sharp triumph. “I knew he would come, once he realized I was here.”
Her heart stopped when she recognized the figure standing hidden in the trees, felt his bitter condemnation on that moon-shot road. There was nothing she could say that would change what he saw—she was here, he was there, with no way to reach across that empty distance. The air had grown cold, the trees moved, and he stood alone in the glow of silver, his body more primitive than she’d ever seen. Ferocity burned through him. All of it, aimed at her.
“She asked me to kill you,” said the man who called himself Nico. “Such a blood-thirsty woman you have.” He kicked the tapestry bag into the road, spilling coins in glittering condemnation. “I don’t think she realized I would do it for free.”
“Did you ask him?” One question, uttered in moonlight, ripping her open and letting her bleed out across the ground.
She could not answer, knew his verdict had been rendered and the question merely the formality. Shapes materialized around him, keeping a wary distance. Violence shimmered in the night air, vicious intent hardened the dark. He was waiting, for what she wasn’t sure, but he frightened her more than he ever had. It was as if he was disappearing into a cold black place from which he would never return.
Nico laughed and his hand moved, the gesture landing her hard on the ground. Her pale hair tangled across her eyes. She thought it was a nightmare, hoped. But the road was dry beneath her palms, the pain in her knees too intense not to be real, and the man who had once been her friend jerked her upright again. His mouth was crushing hers, teeth biting deep into her flesh. She arched back in pain. In answer, his grip in her hair grew so tight she couldn’t twist away.
A scream split the night air, and it was as if the earth had opened and demons emerged. Where Christan once stood monstrous creatures appeared, coming together with such force the branches of nearby trees broke like kindling. The noise was thunder, blood like rain on the ground, the wet ripping of flesh so terrifying she turned to run.
She did not get far.
They were on her in an instant. Desperate, she fell in the dirt. A knife was in her hand, picked up from a pool of blood. She struck out blindly. But it did not end, could not end no matter how she screamed. When a dark form loomed above her, when she felt the blade and the boots she believed she’d fallen into hell. She curled into a tight ball and begged, for forgiveness for her shouted, angry words. Begged, for another chance to repair her sins. Begged, to have that moment back when she had condemned the man she once loved. Loved him still. She begged for one more breath. And then she stopped.
CHAPTER 28
Casa Della Farfalla, Italy
Christan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other anchoring Lexi against his side. He felt the tremors flow through her, delicate movements in her hand where she curled it against her heart. His jaw clenched on a wave of self-revulsion. He’d been reckless, following Arsen’s instruction and never stopping to think she would know exactly where she was.
Ahead he saw the tall stone pillars that marked the gravel drive to the Casa della Farfalla. The ancient iron gate stood open, and as he drove through, the gate closed behind them. The caretakers would expect their arrival. Over the centuries, Arsen had arranged for a series of loyal humans to assume public ownership of the villa and extensive grounds. The tactic would obscure Christan’s continuing interests. While it was likely that Kace would track them here, the villa was far more secure than it had been in the past. It was the safest option available.