Page 143 of Taken By Touch and Torment

Aunt Carol couldn’t retort, and I liked it better that way. I remembered all the times she’d hurt me, beat me, treated me as a sex and blood slave. I refused to feel guilty. Not on her behalf.

As she lay motionless, I cleaned my dagger on her ugly, tasteless dress. I wiped at my face with my jacket sleeve, pretending that I wasn’t hopelessly drenched in crimson.

A river of blood swam toward Lillian’s feet. More than enough of an offering.

The outline of a magickal door appeared in the wall next to the statue, as if it had been there all along. I didn’t miss my chance. I stepped into the darkness, and I didn’t look back.

Rune said my first kill would be the hardest. And it was a tad frightening how it hadn’t been all too difficult at all. What did that say about my inherent ruthlessness? I imagined Rune’s nod of approval, and it soothed my racing nerves.

Witch lights came to life above, illuminating a long, narrow hall of stone and earth. There was nothing glamorous about this secret underground.

It wasn’t until the door disappeared behind me that I realized my judgment may have been clouded by a layer of shock, after all.

Because I was now in the tunnels, all alone, without my assigned escort and therefore without a navigator.

The tunnel suddenly appeared far narrower, the walls so close I might be crushed between them. There wasn’t enough light. Not enough space.

Not enough air.

I sucked in gasp after gasp, backing up against stone as my vision grew blotchy. Would I be trapped in here forever?

What had I done?

Snap the fuck out of it, Scarlett, my own inner voice commanded. You had no choice. Time to adapt.

I closed my eyes, practicing one of the breathing techniques Belise had taught me until I was no longer on the verge of a panic attack. My lungs expanded. My vision cleared.

My hand trembled slightly as I reached for the note and pen from my hidden jacket pocket.

I found the most even patch of stone I could find, and I placed the note on the wall. My eyes strained against the suboptimal light.

Rune, I had to kill my handler—Aunt Carol. She realized what I was because my blood couldn’t open the tunnel. I don’t know how to get to the castle.

Rune’s linked page sent a small shock through his body whenever I wrote to him, so he could ensure he never missed it. He wrote back immediately.

Shit. Okay, don’t worry. Take deep breaths. You did good, Little Flame, I’m proud of you. If you hadn’t killed her, I would’ve at first sight.

His praise was a soothing caress, no matter how much distance was between us.

You’ll have time to make up a solid cover story. I can guide you to the castle by following you on a map. Probably.

My eyes widened.

Probably???

He was slower to respond this time, and each second that ticked by increased my heart rate several beats per minute.

We can do this. It’s a thirty-minute walk, tops. Just start moving, and each intersection you reach, give me your options in cardinal directions, and I’ll make an educated guess. I was planning on mapping your route as you went, anyway.

Half of me was calmed by his words—his reminder that I was ensuring my escape by using the tunnels, providing Rune a safe and easy way to get to me in the palace. To even transport a whole group of specialized fighters through.

The other half of me was panicking all over again.

Cardinal directions? Who the hell knows their cardinal directions at any given moment, Rune?

His next words had me rolling my eyes.

I do. As would any decently trained, competent being. But, fine. Start moving, and I can figure that out too.

---