Page 162 of The Cannibal

His voice was beginning to go in and out.

Wine was placed before all of them. He took a moment to raise his glass. “A toast to Alina. And a special tribute to my son, for his sacrifice, and for being so understanding.” If Levi’s smirk grew any wider, his gold fangs would blind me from the light reflections.

They all drank. So easily, so happily. These deranged men were so desensitized to getting what they wanted that they couldn’t be bothered with correcting such distasteful jabs.

“Your mother being the last one to wear that ring makes this arrangement quite romantic,” he laughed.

My face fell.

The last one.

My eyes fell to my own untouched glass.

“I was quite happy you and Phoebe got along so well, even without knowing. I suppose blood recognizes blood. Sharing the same mother is such a special bond, isn’t it?”

He addressed the rest of them as if he was on a stage running jokes. “I think they call them Irish twins, you would think the mother would have been luckier.”

“Bastard!” I lunged at him, my hands on his throat.

The table clattered, the wine spilling and flatware chiming.

He pulled me onto his lap instead of pushing me away. He hissed at me, baring his fangs, and I did so back. I couldn’t stop it.

“You killed her,” I screamed. “You killed my mother!”

“I killed her neither time,” he choked. “You did. I suggested we ease her pain with venom, but there was no stopping it.”

“And yet you used her after.” I forced the words through my teeth. “You let my father believe she was dead! Only to force her into something worse, you devil!”

“It wasn’t my fault he assumed Vipera could only be born, not turned,” he laughed. “Short-sighted, you people.”

Everything was falling together.

The way Levi used us. All of us.

My mother’s suffering prolonged for selfish desires for kin and expected to be my burden next. Both my father and I falling victim to the ignorance of how deep these monsters were rooted in our society, our lives. They could do all they pleased with no recourse, because nobody knows better than them—as long as they had money, they would never taste even a lick of consequence.

And finally, a half-sister. The last piece of my family . . . only to have consumed her.

“It takes longer if consumed rather than injected,” I said quietly.

Levi’s brows furrowed.

“The venom,” I said, my eyes unblinking, making sure I saw every reaction, “it takes slightly longer to metabolize.”

His neck moved stiffly as he looked around the table.

Everyone was limp, eyes open, slouched or tipped back in their chairs. Their chests moved up and down.

Luka slumped against the banister of the roof. He would be fine.

I couldn’t say the same for the others.

Silas lit his cigarette, taking his time inhaling half of it before tapping the ash in his full wineglass. Then he pushed his seat back, reaching down.

He used the chair to step up onto the table, pulling the rifle from a half to full-cocked position.

They couldn’t do anything.