Page 27 of Dark Goodbye

I can’t come to her broken and shattered. She’s already lying in a million pieces and needs someone that can pick them up and put them together. It’s a far more noble and worthy cause than spending any longer than I have to with this piece of scum.

Malus’s death will leave some holes, some questions that will remain unanswered, but I can field most of them. All I need is his thumb to sign off on a few documents and that’s it. It will be easy to put on a charade, act as if he’s still roaming the halls.

Grabbing a long, wicked bone blade from the tools on the rack, I stride over, not giving it a second thought before putting the knife to work, cutting off his right thumb. Keeping that clinical detachment firmly in place, I let his screeching howls slide off of me like water sluicing across the skin.

Once I package the digit up, I roll the knife in my hand, sending up a silent prayer to Jarosh that he sees this as repaying a wrong and not hold it against me. Reaching forward, I palpate his chest, closing my eyes so that my fingers can see for me. With Malus rocking back and forth, I need every extra sense I can muster.

Though the throat is an obvious choice for a quick death, it’s also far messier than I want to contemplate. I can clean up many things, but arterial blood spray can leave droplets in areas I might not even see. Not that I’m anticipating anyone scouring this hidden room, but still. The blood will need to be contained to the sheets currently cocooning Malus.

I locate that depression in the skin, the intercostals between ribs three and four. Praying that the gods guide my hand, I press the tip against his flesh and push through. Malus’s muffled screams ring out in the air as the first drop of blood falls from his chest.

Though the knife is clearly old, it slides through the first layer of skin like it’s nothing. As it gets to the skeletal muscles of the intercostals, it meets its initial point of resistance. Pushing harder, I divide the ribs, running straight into his lungs.

Gurgling noises pepper the air with wheezing, pained grunts. Blood spills out from between his lips with bubbles dotting the surface. Pushing even harder, I stab the tip into the heart itself.

Malus flops about, his eyes wide, pleading, but we both know his death is inevitable. For good measure, I push it in just a little more and twist, ensuring his end is quick. Standing guard, like a sentinel of death, I stare at him, watching the life slowly dissipate from his eyes.

I thought it would feel grand, momentous, as if the world would be righted, but it didn’t. The act of murdering him leaves me cold, hollow, and so very much alone.

It was what he deserved, even if the revenge didn’t taste as sweet as I was expecting it to. And though my conscience wheedles me, however, I know it was a just act. Not just for me, but for all the innocents who have suffered at his hand.

Tossing the knife onto Malus’s lifeless body, I bustle about the room, cleaning up any evidence of foul play. Every bit of it will join him in the crematorium. All that is left to do is to put his finger on ice for further processing and get home to my wayward omega that’s waiting for her first punishment.

CHAPTER 12

Ladria

Staring up at the timepiece for the fifteenth time at least, a sigh blows through my lips as I watch the numbers change in slow succession. Two hours. That’s how long it’s been since Davix chained me back up to this bed, leaving my body thrumming with arousal and burning with indignation.

Though I was never old enough to warrant the attention of the beta males at the compound, it didn’t stop them from at least talking to me, trying to spark some kind of connection, but it was never there. If I was completely honest, I dreaded the idea of my ritual, knowing I was going to have to give my body to someone I didn’t want.

But it’s the life I chose. Deep down, I knew that and yet, being back in the presence of an Alpha, it made me wonder why I ever left in the first place. The answer, however, is in the question. Being around the beta men never made me feel anything… but then… that was the point.

Being within their midst didn’t overwhelm me, didn’t make me want to give up on my identity, and didn’t make me want to do dark, delicious things with their bodies. Davix, on the other hand, was the type of Alpha I wanted to submit to, to allow him to do what he wanted with my body… and some part of me still wants that.

Clenching the fingers of my injured hand, I rock back and forth, sliding my ass across the expensive silken sheets to dissipate this longing that’s gathering deep inside me. We’re not even marked, and yet, I note his absence like a phantom pain in my body.

Was it like that when I first ran? No doubt I was too scared, too worried about dying in the Dead Lands to even notice. It wasn’t until I was safe at the commune that I allowed myself to mourn the man that was my first crush, but even then, it felt hollow, fake.

Glancing at the timepiece once more, I screech out in frustration. Lying here is agonizing in its own way. My body is heavy, leaden, and unwilling to move, but my brain will not stop circling around thoughts and memories it has no business dredging back up.

The chain attached to my neck tinkles as Mogen moves about, no doubt doing something far more entertaining than just lying around like me. Yet one more physical reminder that I’m not in control of the situation. Leaning my head back, I tug on it with my neck, seeing if she’ll even notice. At least it’s something to do to stave off the boredom. But even this is bound to get old after a while.

Sure enough, at the first sign of movement on my part, the slack dissipates, pulling the chain taut between us. Moments go by until it finally drops back down against me. The soft patter of her feet as she comes into the room is welcome — another sound to fill out the world, making it feel more real.

“Time to move your shoulder.” She hobbles forward and unlatches the sling, allowing my arm to swing back and forth.

Any minute movement sends bile up my throat, causing my stomach to contract. Now, more than ever, I wish Davix was here to purr for me. It seems to be the only thing that helps that won’t also knock me out.

“That’s all right, Mogen,” Davix rumbles, as if my thoughts alone conjure him. The sound of his voice zips straight to my clit, drawing a moan up my throat that I cannot allow myself to release. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Yes, Master Davix.” Mogen swiftly turns from me, but not before I see the glint of relief shining in her eyes.

“Please tell the chef to prepare Ladria’s dinner. I left a note dictating what he was to make for her. If need be, watch him to make sure he does as instructed. You know he likes to get fancy with his food.”

At the mention of my impending meal, my stomach, angry as it is, chooses that moment to let out the most unladylike growl. Heat climbs my cheeks as I hunch over and press the sling against the offending body part.

Twinkle in her eye, Mogen smiles over at me before addressing Davix. “And you, Master? Are you going to eat?”