Page 10 of Unholy Bonds

I knew he wouldn’t follow me, not when he had things to wrap up and finish here. He couldn’t afford to leave Phil hanging. Ryden Sinclair hadn’t stayed out of prison by being irresponsible. Even though his kill today was a bit reckless, it was still meticulous.

“The first rule of killing is… never getting caught. You got caught.”

A satisfied smile tugged at my lips when I finally reached home. Whistling, I parked my sedan in the old garage—this car had belonged to my grandfather, and I only used it for hunting—locking it before I walked toward my house.

Pulling open the heavy wooden door, I entered the expansive hallway decorated with paintings and portraits. Katelyn had drawn some of these paintings. The remaining pieces were ones we had scrounged from various art exhibits. Kat made the once cold, lifeless house into a warm home. She made everything better in my life.

I inherited this mansion from my father. After I killed him, everything that belonged to him became mine, making me rich at the age of eighteen.

It was blood money, corrupted by his evil. It was shameless to live in his remains, his sins, after everything that had happened, but I had made this mine by ending him.

I had stopped him and saved myself, and I deserved this. I deserved everything because he was the reason I had become this shattered, perverted version of my naive, younger self.

My father broke me, and then I had to put myself back together, all by myself, with my young fingers. The pieces never fit properly—it changed me in ways I hadn’t imagined. It was his demise that breathed life into the demons in me. It was his depravity that freed them from their hell. For that, he deserved to die a million times.

The sound of the phone interrupted my thoughts. Grumbling, I reached for it, and the frown soon became a smile as I caught sight of the familiar name flashing on the screen.

“Irene? Why are you still awake? Don’t you have school tomorrow?” I asked as I threw my scarf on the couch. Slipping my shoes off, I walked toward my kitchen when my stomach growled. The whiskey was the last thing I drank. I was too distracted by Ryden and everything else to even think about food.

“Why are you still awake? Where were you? You weren’t home,” she said in a shaky voice, and I sighed as I stared at the outdated phone blinking with a message. Sometimes she called on the landline to check if I was home. I only kept it for her.

She was worried that I’d die just like her sister, just like Kat, and leave her all alone.

“I was out, Re-Re.”

Re-Re had been Katelyn’s nickname for Irene when they were younger. And then it had become mine, too, when Katelyn and Irene became a part of my family. Kat pulled me into something rare and new, and she showed me love like no one else ever had—something that came without any judgment or expectations.

My nails dug into my palms, a futile attempt to contain the storm raging within. Thinking of Kat and what happened to her sent a surge of anguish and fury through me.

“Were you… working?”

“No. I was at a pub. Drinking. I met someone and… I followed him. I’ll fill you in on the details later. Go back to sleep now, okay, and eat your vegetables.”

“Vegetables? What are you, my fucking mother?” Irene huffed, and I could almost imagine her rolling her eyes. “And why would you follow some stranger? Are you nuts?”

“You’re the one who acts like my mother, Re-Re,” I said, laughing, and Irene scoffed. “I can handle things on my own, alright? You don’t need to keep checking up on me. You’re already juggling two majors, you geek,” I said with a fond smile—Irene Ricci was an overachiever, pursuing a BA in Psychology and a BS in Criminal Justice.

The sound of her laughter was warm and soft, full of colors other than crimson or black. She was yellow and green and purple, the colors I had lost.

“I-I can’t help it. I’m afraid that someone will find out what you do or that one of the men you’re going to… you know, kill…” She made a choking noise and a gurgling sound before mimicking the sound of a blade cutting against the skin. “What if they kill you before you do? I have fucking nightmares, Yara. You don’t understand.”

“I understand, but I’m not easy to kill, Irene.”

“Yeah? Are you going to tell me you’re an immortal fae who has come to the mortal world through a hidden portal?”

“No, I’m not a fae. I’m a vampire,” I said, and she groaned. “Hey, it’s my job to worry about you. Not the other way around.”

She grunted. “Alright, alright, and remember the first rule. Do NOT ever fucking get caught.”

“I’m not an amateur. I don’t have any intention to live my life in a fucking prison.”

“Good. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Re-Re.”

After eating and getting dressed for the night in an old T-shirt, I spent a few hours on my laptop, stalking Mr. Sinclair. He looked harmless in the pictures, but I knew his secrets and I saw his demons.

“I want you, Sinclair, and… I don’t know whether it’s good or bad.”

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