Page 76 of Muerte

“Even if I didn’t want to kill you, unfortunately, I don’t have a choice. I made a promise I can’t break.”

I gripped the woman’s hair and pulled her head back to slit her throat, ensuring Garret’s face served as a siphon. He had begun to shout as I slid the blade in an arc and pulled back, cutting through the woman’s overly tanned flesh as if to sever her head.

He screamed, then gagged as his wife’s blood spurted into his mouth. I took a step back and let her lifeless body drop. She landed with a soft thud. I didn’t give an impassioned speech or explain why this was happening. Garret knew, and that was all that mattered.

This was the price of defiance, the cost of breaking our sacred laws. Their remaining daughter was a mess of hysterics. “Get him to level two and finish this.”

The disciples bowed their heads, one stepping forward to retrieve my blade before I left the room.

As anticlimactic as this tended to be, it was done. The deed was carried out with precision and a finality that left no room for doubt or remorse. I made my way back to the viewing room where my father waited. His presence was that of a stern advisor and a proud parent. He’d observed with a critical yet approving eye.

I joined him and sanitized my hands. While the sight and smell of blood were nothing new, I preferred not to carry its remnants unnecessarily. It was a matter of cleanliness, a small ritual that marked the end of one act and the beginning of another. I smiled to myself as the marks on my hand stung from the solution.

“You handled that efficiently, but with you that’s not surprising,” he remarked with a smile.

His praise was expected, yet it stirred a sense of accomplishment within me. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a breach.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, looking through the one-way glass, amusement sparking in his eyes as the blonde attempted to punch a disciple. “Only two this year. Your brother’s already handling the Oblivio.”

Of course he was. The thorough and meticulous process was something my baby brother took a cold, pragmatic pride in. To infiltrate someone's life and erase it entirely was a power that came with a deep sense of control.

“He was awake?”

“The Pleasure House.”

“Ah.” I canted my head in acknowledgement. At twenty-six, Emilio was four years younger than me and Bishop. He’d yet to make a claim on any single woman—or take a man in to serve him.

He wasn’t as bad as our cousin, though, who’d fucked his way through the entire Pleasure House at least twice.

The new girl wouldn’t be untouched by him for long, if that’s where she wound up.

Our conversation naturally shifted to Lolita.

“How is our girl settling in?”

If anyone beyond my immediate family dared to call Lolita anything less than mine, I’d rip their throats out. She was special to all of them. Promised to the Alistairs. A dark deity to our faith. Everything to me.

“I know she will embrace her role in time. She's everything she was meant to be, and more.”

“But?” he urged me to continue.

It took me a moment to reveal my thoughts. There wasn’t anyone I trusted more than my family, and my father had firsthand experience with his own Electi—my precious mother. With Lolita being home and having an opportunity to observe her so closely, I knew my initial assessment was spot on.

The problem was laid within her mind.

“She’s having a harder time accepting what and who she’s meant to be than she does our way of life.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I spoke with Esther about her memorizing sections of the codex.”

“She told me about that too. I haven’t brought that up yet.”

“Would you like my advice?”

“I always appreciate your input.”

He turned his head towards me, eyes meeting a pair so much like my own, a sharp intelligence behind them. “Fear, doubt, and insecurity can be crippling. I imagine she’s feeling a variation of those emotions.”

“She is,” I agreed with a deep sigh.

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