Page 101 of Hybrid Heroics

“The last time I saw you, I warned you, Aoiden,” I reminded him with a smirk. “I told you I would kill you.”

I took a step back, admiring the helplessness in his eyes as I unmuted him again.

“If you weren’t here tonight, I was going to ask Sloane to find you. She knows everything. Millie and Murph already gave her the okay. But I knew you would show up with Alric. And I’m happy you did. It’s much more rewarding to kill you myself after everything you put us through.”

“I could have done worse,” Aoiden wheezed, defending his actions even in the face of his death. “But I didn’t. You were an adult when Alric took you for my debts.”

“I was seventeen,” I corrected. “Taking care of my siblings while our ma worked to feed us after you gambled everything away. You left her with your debts. And every time she would save up enough to pay them off, you would storm into our lives, take her money, and blow it all on drugs and cards.”

He chuckled weakly. “I rest my case. You were old enough to provide. Working for Alric was your contribution to the family.”

“You sold me for a debt Alric was going to kill you over.” I shook my head. “We both see the past differently. I won’t argue with your opinions any more. I play this tug-of-war game between logic and reason with my mate. She’s a tough opponent, but you’re not worth my time.”

“Then why do you keep talking?”

I held yet another rod up, crackling with unstable electricity. “I was charging this.”

“What are you doing?”

“I told you,” I repeated. “Warned you to stay out of my sight, Aoiden. To stay away from Miller and Murphy. To stay the fuck away from our ma. You broke those rules.”

He screamed at me, a guttural string of nonsense falling from his lips in his panic. Once more, I observed his struggle with a calm indifference. His limbs didn’t budge from the tree trunk, blood trickling in thin trails, only seeping harder as he fought.

Maybe it was cruel.

But so was life.

I held the rod out, hovering near his chest as I reminded him for the last time, “I told you I would kill you.”

I took three steps back and threw that rod with all the strength I possessed. It slid into the soft spot below his chest, where his ribs parted over his stomach.

The extra energy I’d been feeding into the rod splintered, seeking the less active conductors around it. Sparks zinged, creating a fireworks display, as I electrocuted Aoiden Lynch.

His clothes caught fire before his screams died out. The scent of burning hair and flesh made me curl my lip in disgust. I called Sloane’s hellfire to my palm, tossing it onto Aoiden to speed the incineration along.

A firm hand touched my shoulder as Murphy stepped up to watch. Miller squeezed between us, her arms around our waists as she leaned into her twin. She was stoic in the face of her father’s death even though she had loved him once, more so than Murph or me.

Ma stood a few feet from us, the blazing flames reflecting in her glossy eyes. I held my hand out, and she took it, wrapping her arm around my waist below Millie’s.

She had a healing cut on her cheek from the fight, but I caught myself wondering what damage she had withstood before they got here. I wanted to ask, though I wouldn’t. Aoiden was dead. He couldn’t touch her again.

“Are you okay?” Murphy rumbled.

I wasn’t sure who he was talking to, so I didn’t answer. We all waited for Ma, worried about her more than ourselves.

“I will be,” she said with a sigh. “Two hundred and seventy-eight years, and the only thing that man ever gave me was you three. I won’t mourn for him. I have everything I want right here.”

Millie snorted, leaning around me to smirk at our matriarch. “You want me to send you a few toys? I’ll package them discreet—”

“Miller,” Ma snarled, no heat behind it. “Not the time—”

“Or the place,” Mills interrupted, winking. “Got it, Ma.”

“How is the fight going?” I asked. “I don’t want to turn around yet. But I’m assuming since you three are here, everything is going according to Sloane’s plan.”

“She’s still playing with Alric,” Murphy informed me, humor in his tone. “He looks like shit.”

Ma scoffed. “That fecking bastard deserves worse than he’s getting.”