Page 28 of Unholy Bonds

This dead world deserves someone glorious like her.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” I murmured, tapping my fingers against the window.

I would liberate her from her secrets. This shallow existence would then gladly bathe in her glory and drink her blood to come alive from death.

My love deserves K.Y. Wolff’s soul. My love demands Yara’s soul.

Her haunting voice filled my head, and her broken whisper tugged something deeper within me. It always did. She was the only one who could make me feel, who could break me. The only one who could comfort me, too.

How could she not know that the letters were for her? Always for her. Only for her!

“Let me tell you a story. She was beaten until the pain was only a distant echo. She lost everything that made her HER. And then there was only a pit inside her heart. All she hoped was to live in the light, away from the crippling darkness, and to heal in the sunshine, but the animal was relentless.”

I grinned, running my fingers through my hair. I could feel the brisk wind against my cheek, and it felt like Yara’s breath.

Oh, how I enjoyed her storytelling.

She was a master weaver of tales. I rubbed my hands together and pressed my chin against the cold window of the Amtrak Wolverine, bringing me back home. Toledo was a layover. Baltimore was a layover. Everything else was fleeting.

Detroit was home. It had always been.

My home was where Yara was. I couldn’t wait to look at her, to live her days with her.

The sound from the outside world ceased to exist. I was blissfully alone. Just me and her. Her and me.

“Always chasing and hunting. She became familiar with the scent of blood, and something woke in her. Something bitter, and bloodthirsty. She tried so hard to hide, but the seams were shattered, and the demons emerged, clamoring for blood.”

“I’m coming home for you, Yara, and this time… I’ll find you, and you will see me. You’ll finally see me and love me.”

13

UNHOLY VERDICTS

YARA

The pull of another kill was like a seductive call I couldn’t run from.

“Come. Come,” the voice begged, screamed. There was nowhere to hide from the voice. It was inside me; it knew all the places I could go.

I’m coming.

Before I killed Victor, I needed to stage a few things first. The story had so many parts, and I couldn’t miss anything. One slip, and they would lock me up for life. I had no intention of ending up inside a prison.

A few days later, when everything was exactly where I wanted them to be, I was ready for the sacrifice.

On a stormy Thursday night, I was waiting for Millicent outside The Mirage. She came out at two o’clock, high as a kite.

I had already found routes where the traffic cameras were on every bend and corner, found a few that were malfunctioning, and found alleys where I could slip back into darkness without being noticed.

Every thread needed to be precise. The detectives I worked with were not fools. They would ask all the questions they had to, and I had to give them satisfactory answers.

Millicent fumbled with her phone, trying to hire a personal driver to take her home.

“Ma’am. Do you need someone to drive you back home?”

“Already here?” she slurred, throwing her key at me. Before I could catch it, it fell to the ground with a plunk. She opened the back door, got into the backseat, and soon fell asleep.

Grabbing her phone out of her fur coat, I sent a quick text to Victor and put it back inside.

---