Page 37 of Revenge of the Blood Pack

“I don’t need you for any of that,” I lie. “The only thing I need is for you to die.”

He smiles. “We both know that isn’t true.”

I watch as he tilts his head and his eyes begin to glow. Not red, not the color I imagined, but a sinful gold. One that’s impossible to look away from. One that burns through to my very soul leaving me feeling alone and afraid. A sob explodes from my lips, but I still can’t look away as he draws closer.

“You are the reason for everything that happened to your people. You watched as your mother died in front of you and heard the sounds of your sister being slaughtered. Your only hope is your brother, even though you didn’t see him in one of our cages. And that little piece of hope that he’s still alive is the only thing that keeps you going.” He touches my face, and I try to remember how close he was before, but I can’t. “But I’m afraid I have to destroy that final piece of hope. I saw your brother. He was kept away from the rest of you for a reason. He was the first one of you we experimented on. And while we tried to create better versions of ourselves, with him, we created something far worse. So, he needed to die.”

My pulse fills my ears. I want to look away. I want to pull away as he continues to stroke my face in a way that’s almost sensual, but I can’t. His words dig so deep into my soul that it feels like he’s tearing me apart. Like he really has destroyed the last piece of me that loves, that has hope, that’s capable of caring about anyone or anything.

And now I just want to die.

“Let’s see those claws,” he whispers, and I feel my hand lift and my claws extend. “Now, bring yourself peace, Blondie. Youwere the reason everyone you ever loved died. Use those claws to finally end it all. Finally walk away. You know it’s what you want.”

I feel tears rolling down my cheek as I move my hand to my throat. As I feel the sharp tips press into my skin, slowly drawing blood. This was how my story was always going to end. Always. I ended the lives of everyone I loved, and it only makes sense that now I would end my own life too.

Everyone I loved is dead.

Everyone.

“It’s time to finish this,” the Blood Mage whispers.

And all I see is gold. Gold like the mage’s eyes. Gold like the sunset. Gold like Trouble. And then other colors begin to float through my mind. Max’s eyes. I always called them light brown, but they were almost hazel with little flecks of gold. And his skin, it’s tan, a shade or two more tan than my own. It seems to brighten when he smiles, the rare times he smiles. Unlike with Braxton, who smiles all the time. Who has pale blue eyes that contrast so much with his black hair that he’s hard to look at.

They’re both hard to look at. So beautiful. They separate the grey of this world and remind me that other colors still exist.

Colors outside of grey and gold.

And while they don’t love me, I know they care about me. And I care about them too.

His golden eyes seem to fade, and before I know what I’m doing, I launch into action. My claws rip away from my throat and slice across his. Blood flies across my face as his eyes widen, and then I just can’t stop. I tear into him, a scream building in the back of my throat. I saw his whole damn head off, and then I claw across his chest, his arms, his legs. Blood is everywhere, and I’m sobbing, screaming, crying, and attacking.

It’s not until I’m kneeling in the mess of flesh that was this man that I seem to come back to myself, and then I cry harder.I almost killed myself. Ididkill another person. A Blood Mage who tortured me. Who hurt the people I cared about. The loss of his life could only be a good thing for this world, but it was a bad thing for me.

My soul might not be white. It might be greyer.But this? Killing like this? Did it make me as bad as him? If I could reach inside myself, would I find a black soul?There has to be some way to help my people that doesn’t lead me down such a dark path.

“Asha?”

I spin around, heart in my throat. A young man stands in front of me wearing a dark hoodie that covers his face in shadows. He’s carrying a brown grocery bag that drops at his feet as he sees the scene in front of him.

Standing, my hands in fists, I square off with him. “How do you know my name?”

Every muscle in my body is tense as he reaches up and pulls the hood down. My breath catches, and then it’s hard to breathe. Clinton. He’d been what… thirteen or fourteen when our village was attacked? He’d been there in the cages with us. Quiet. Painfully quiet. But there.

“Clinton,” I say, and there are tears in my throat as I race over to him and embrace him.

To my relief, he hugs me back. He’s aware enough of who I am, aware enough that he hasn’t been lost to the darkness.This is someone I can still save.

I pull away from him a little and reach up to touch his face. His eyes are green, like his mother’s, a deep intense color that makes it hard to look away from. His hair looks like he’d cut it himself, a little wild, but the same dark brown as when I’d seen him last. And then, I see my own hands, covered in blood, my knuckles bruised and bloody from beating the Blood Mage, even though I don’t remember punching him.

“What are you doing here?” I finally manage as I drop my hands.

He gives me a weak smile. “I didn’t know what to do when we got free. I didn’t know where to go. So,” he shrugs, “the Blood Mage taught me some things I could do with my magic. We were going to get money here, a final big score, then move on to somewhere no one would know to look for us.”

“You were working with one of them?” I try not to sound shocked, but I am.

He winces and rubs the back of his head. “Asha, I’m sorry. I was just so… lost.”

Working with a Blood Mage… I think I’d rather die. But he’s maybe sixteen now. After all he’s been through, it’s not my job to judge him for what he did to survive. I’m just glad that he had.

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