Page 94 of The Puppeteer and the Poisoned Pawn

I freeze, stunned into absolute silence, with an army of goose bumps etching over every inch of flesh.

One blink and I gasp.

A man on a motorcycle flies off the cliff alongside a black beast, soaring with fiery red eyes and an open jaw of sharp teeth, ready to devour.

And so they do.

“It’s you,” I say with a loud exhale. “Dessin.”

Dessin, in his leather jacket and double-edge sword, kicks off the bike, sweeping through the unit like a machine, slicing through heads and limbs as if they’re made of butter. And DaiSzek is unstoppable and a plague on this earth. He jumps from soldier to soldier, shaking their bodies like chew toys, and snarling after each kill.

I jump to my feet but have lost my daggers, and Dessin—without a word—tosses me a pair of gloves. The demon’s teeth that Garanthian gave me. I pull them on before a soldier swings a sword in my direction. I high kick it out of his hand, slamming my fist of metal thorns and jagged blades across his face, ripping into the flesh, carving him into confetti.

The three of us fight like arch angels sent down to obliterate evil. Warriors that don’t bleed. Don’t feel pain. And I’m filled with an electric current of power. A feeling of utter domination. Complete invincibility. When we’re together, nothing can touch us.

Where one lacks, the other makes up.

Dessin fights three at once, kicking one into the air for DaiSzek to snatch midflight.

Within minutes, the last body drops into a heap of blood and entrails. A silence drifts around us like heavy smoke, impossible to breathe. And I look at them, streaked in blood, panting from the workout.

My jaw clamps down. His face. His broad shoulders. That towering height that leaves me feeling so small in his shadow. And he gazes back at me, burning with violent adrenaline and unreadable emotions. His sword drops at his side, and DaiSzek runs to chase down a deserter.

My hands shake at my sides as Dessin takes a single step toward me.

I suddenly can’t control what I feel. The fury overtakes me, searing through my veins like poison, blurring my vision with hateful tears—it’s all I’ve known since he’s been gone. I release a stuttering breath.

He takes three more steps and remains silent.

I’m bubbling with every ounce of agony, of horror, of crippling devastation I felt when he died. The tears swell, and I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Skylenna,” he says, voice rugged with deep sorrow and dominance. I feel it sink to the bottom of my stomach.

My name on his lips melts the last of my control.

“You son of a bitch!” I explode, slamming my blood-soaked fists into his hard, immovable chest. “You fucking bastard!”

My screams are the most devastating sound I’ve ever heard.

“How could you do this to me?” I know why he had to. But I can’t help but be angry at myself, at my plan, at anything and everything. “I watched you die!” Somewhere in that sentence, my voice breaks into a million tiny pieces, and I’m crying. My cheeks wet and flushed with heat.

My fists and arms are limp and soft as I weakly try to hit him again. This time, he catches my wrists, pulling me to him as he walks me backward into a tree. My back hits the bark, and I melt into him, sobbing with loud, angry gasps for air.

Dessin presses his forehead to mine, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen tears rimming his eyes. His jaw is locked, his forehead pinched together, and he looks like he wants to hit something, kill something, or roar at the top of his lungs in agony.

“I was so cold…” I whimper. And suddenly, I’m that little girl again, trapped in the basement. “I wanted to die too.”

“Forgive me,” he grunts, low and gravelly, hot breath brushing over my lips.

Forgive him?I’m the one that forced his hand. I ate the Phoenix Stem. I killed every last memory I had with Kane. I gave him no choice but to honor my last wishes and carry out this plan.

“Forgive me. Because I’ll never forgive myself. We never wanted you to hurt like this.”

I cry harder, melting into him as I fall apart. And he holds up my weight with ease, locking his arms around me like a cage. I let it all out. The pain I endured in the asylum. The days I couldn’t eat after his death. The nightmares I was trapped in. The blood I spilled. The memories that tormented my soul and ate me alive.

“Please, don’t leave me,” I beg. It’s such a small, sad request. But I’m terrified. My whole world spun out of control when he was gone. And I suddenly buckle under the weight of this new fear. That he’ll vanish again. A string of smoke in the wind.

And I’ll be left cold and alone, all over again.

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