Page 95 of Brutal Birthright

“Yes, over by the first target,” Ri called out in reply, shouting back through the fog. “Hey, you don’t have to rush off.” She started forward as the witch turned away.

“No, I really should go.” The girl mumbled into her books. “I’ll catch you around sometime.”

Shit. Ri kept getting caught off guard in these impromptu conversations and forgot to ask the girl her name.

“You’d better have slotted that bastard right through the bull’s eye—” Finn’s voice grew louder, and his feet crunched on the gravel path.

“Hey, wait, I forgot to…” But the witch had scurried off into the thick bank of drifting mist, and something told Ri that even if she did hear her, the girl was in a hurry to get out of there.

Goosebumps travelled down her arms.

Another sister? Why had no one mentioned her? Was that some big family secret? And if so… what could possibly have happened that meant no one ever spoke of her?

Chapter 29

“Where the fuck have you be—is that your blood?” Oriana flew towards him. Her rushed steps across the wet stones drew nearer.

He’d heard her footfall descending into the catacombs but hadn’t been able to bring himself to respond as she started to call his name, searching for him from the top of the dank stairwell.

The night was already long into the small hours.

She shouldn’t be out at this time.

Not on a dark moon when there was almost no light to see by. Especially not when whatever they had just witnessed might be unleashed on the academy at any moment.

Oriana could defend herself in many ways. But not from this.

His head remained dropped between his shoulders when he heard her gasp. Rushing to his side and dropping to her knees, she took in the sight of him. Slumped on the ground with his back against the wall, Rowan knew he reeked of gore and death, and the acrid taste of blood still lingered in the back of his throat.

But if he thought he would be in for anything less than Oriana’s fire…

“All.” Hit. “Fucking.” Hit. “Day.” Hit.

Her tiny fists pummelled his chest to punctuate each word.

“You weren’t in class. No one said anything about where you were… and I couldn’t ask more than once without it seeming suspicious.”

“I didn’t expect to be the one being reprimanded for not attending classes.” He grimaced. That entity had slashed his ribs well and good. They were only just knitting back together. Ribs were the worst.

“Don’t be smart with me.” She fumed.

“Wouldn’t dream of taking your place as the smart-mouthed one out of the two of us.”

“Stop evading.”

Smart little thing, indeed.

“You’re hurt.” Dark eyes pierced him. Closely assessing his features.

“Already healing.” He grunted. Softly attempting to hold her clenched hands away from the worst of his wounds. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but he knew the process of recovering from such an onslaught would take his magic a little longer than usual to repair the damage.

“You’re a shitty liar.” Deft fingers gently lifted the tattered edges of his black shirt. She sucked in a disapproving breath as she took in the bright red gashes crisscrossed along his chest and stomach. Blood had dried to create a more garish look than was actually the case anymore. Although he’d lost more pints of crimson in facing down whatever that thing was than he’d care to admit.

Hence why he’d landed here and stayed put.

A safe, quiet place to lick his wounds after he’d ensured Niall returned safely… metaphorically speaking anyways.

“We need to get this off so I can take a proper look at you.” Protesting was futile. The girl already had the near-shredded shirt by the hem and inched it carefully up his torso. Clucking her tongue at him to move his arms off his knees so she could lift it over his head. The damn thing was nearly torn clean off his back.

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