Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Malek Lombardi was never the problem.
The problem was in my own house. My own blood.
But none of that matters now. It’s too late now.
“Let her go. I’ll say it just once more,” I say.
“You should have stepped aside, you selfish bastard. To hell with you for making me do this!” Enzo says and I hear the cocking of his weapon.
This is it. I’ll have one chance. But if I miscalculate, if I—
“In pieces, you fucking asshole!” Allegra screams, cutting off my thoughts. She grabs hold of the barrel of the gun, but he manages her easily, turning her so her belly is pressed to his chest, her face crushed against his shirt.
“Allegra no!” I scream, lunging for them.
Before I reach them, the gun goes off and I scream for her as they stumble backward, two steps. Blood. Blood on him. Blood on her. Blood all over her bound arms, her naked stomach, seeping down her leg.
The world goes silent for a split second, time standing still, me mid-air.
Me, too late.
Too fucking late.
I scream her name. I scream it in a voice I don’t recognize.
And I don’t understand why her knees don’t give out. Why her legs don’t sag like his. He drops to his knees and takes her with him, but I don’t understand why she hasn’t fallen until I see what she has in her hands.
Until I see the switchblade I gave him, a gift for his sixteenth birthday. Engraved especially to mark the day.
Enzo looks down at it. I think he realizes what’s happened at the same time as I do. Enzo, confused, looks at the hilt of his own knife sticking out of his stomach. Sees her bound wrists holding it, pressing it, flowing with blood.
His blood. Not hers. His.
He doesn’t know, doesn’t understand that my Little Moth is not a weak thing. She is no victim to be had. She is a violent, powerful thing.
And she’s mine. She’s mine. My love. My heart. My queen.
39
ALLEGRA
Enzo’s arm drops from around me, but I keep my grip on that blade. I keep it pressed to his gut and cut upwards, even though it’s hard, flesh and muscle and bone not giving easily to my blade. His blade.
Perhaps I’m more my father’s daughter than anyone knew, I think, as I butcher him, warm life blood pouring from him. I feel it when he begins to let go, too. It’s the strangest sensation.
His eyes, which look at me disbelievingly, move over my shoulder, shift to a place beside me where Cassian drops heavily to his knees.
“In pieces,” I say, spitting the words, my eyes locked on the man I am killing. “I’ll deliver your enemies to you in pieces.”
Cassian wraps one arm around my shoulders and eases my hands from the knife with the other.
Footsteps sound behind us. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Jet. He mutters a curse.
“Pieces,” I say again, finally looking at Cassian. Looking at my beautiful villain. A man who has bloodied his hands for me. A man for whom I have bloodied mine.
He bends his head closer, forehead furrowed, turquoise eyes intent on me. He pushes the hair from my face. It’s sticking to the blood there.
“I love you, my violent little Allegra.” He kisses me and I taste the blood of the dying man. I taste it and relish it because I will kill any man who tries to hurt what is mine. Who tries to take what is mine.
Enzo makes a sound and we both turn to watch a line of blood slide from the corner of his mouth.
I watch Cassian as he shifts his position to raise Enzo’s head a little. I watch the pain in his eyes as he processes this betrayal. This unfathomable betrayal.
“Did your father know?” he asks.
Enzo sucks in a breath, but I’m not sure he can speak.
“Tell me. Tell me if he knew.”
Enzo shakes his head once and I think that’s a relief to Cassian.
“Why? Why would you betray me? I loved you. I’d have given you anything,” Cassian says, but he knows he’s not getting an answer. We all know.
Cassian lays Enzo’s head back down. I watch Cassian while he watches Enzo die and I see what Enzo’s betrayal has cost him.
He sits back on his heels and pulls the dagger out of Enzo’s gut. He takes one more moment to look at his cousin before he passes his hand over Enzo’s face to close his eyes.
He doesn’t deserve it, I want to say. He was a traitor. I don’t, though. I don’t say anything. Instead, I touch Cassian’s face to make him look at me.
He does, his eyes searching my face, landing on all the places that are bruised or cut. He’s so gentle when he touches me that for a moment, it feels like it’s just us. Just us up here at the top of this decrepit, abandoned house, a graveyard around us.