Page 122 of I Will Mend You

When she looks at me, her eyes aflame with determination, my resolve crumbles. I can’t deny my little ghost. She needs to face them head on, just as I need to face Father. I want her to reclaim her power.

I nod, my throat too tight to form words.

“So, you’ll help me?” she asks.

“Alright,” I finally manage, “But it’s training only. You leave the recapture missions to my operatives.”

“Fine,” she says, and lowers herself back onto my chest.

Hours later, Tyler messages that all personnel sent to the decoy house are disabled or dead. After turning off the traps, Jynxson and his team extract the survivors and dispose of the bodies.

I’ve ordered their teeth removed, just in case they’re concealing communications devices. I’ve also summoned Camila. Both my sisters are about Amethyst’s size, but Isabel probably won’t consent to fighting her patient.

After breakfast, Amethyst and I take the cart to a training facility a mile out from our hideout. Until Delta and his band of supporters are dead, we’re still assuming the catacombs beneath the Parisii Cemetery are compromised.

Camila waits for us in a room surrounded by concrete walls, lit by harsh fluorescent lights. Around her are punching bags, sparring mats, and an array of combat gear mounted on the far wall.

She turns towards us as we enter, her brow creasing with concern. As the first person to have spotted Dolly’s counterfeit confession, I’m not surprised Camila is worried. My sister might be cautious, but if anyone can understand the healing power of vengeance, it’s Camila.

When I think about her alone in our childhood home with John, it makes me want to finish what I started with the urinal. Or at least execute him in the electric chair all over again.

“You’re sure about this?” Camila asks, her gaze flicking toward Amethyst.

My little ghost pulls back her shoulders. “I need the strength to face my sister again.”

Camila looks at her for a beat before she shrugs. “If it gets too much?—”

“It won’t.” Amethyst punches into her palm. “And don’t hold back.”

My sister and I exchange glances. I’ve already had the rest of the night to come to terms with Amethyst’s resolve, but my sister is taken aback. Camila has an idea of what Amethyst endured and likely doesn’t want to add to her trauma.

Raising a hand, I cut off Camila’s attempt to question her further and indicate for her to move behind.

“Alright, then,” my sister says. “This time, you won’t rely on leveraging a man’s weight or strength. You’ll face an evenly matched opponent, testing your skill and endurance.”

Swallowing, Amethyst nods.

“We’ll skip the boxing gloves. Based on the footage we downloaded last night, that’s not Dolly’s style. We’ll focus on hand to hand. When you’ve got a grip on the basics, we’ll escalate to knives.”

My muscles tense as Amethyst marches forward, each step laden with determination. The urge to protect her claws at my insides, threatening to break free. I want to grab her, to pull her close and shield her from every conceivable harm. But restraining her would only stifle her progress, and she needs to reclaim her strength. So, I clasp my hands together and swallow back my frustration.

Camila assumes a fighting stance, which Amethyst mirrors. As the two women circle each other, Camila instructs her on how best to position her feet for balance and mobility.

“Xero?” says a voice in my Bluetooth headset. It’s Jynxson.

“Report.” I step away from the two women.

“Three of the personnel retrieved from the decoy house and its surroundings died en route to the holding cells. Two are critical and one is stable.”

“Any ID on the survivor?” I ask, keeping my gaze on Amethyst and Camila’s training.

“Moirai,” he mutters. “All of them.”

My brows rise. “Do they know they’re working for Delta?”

“The survivor said her client’s name was Fenrick Greer.”

I nod. Father doesn’t just use aliases, he steals identities. That’s the name of the masked man who transported Amethyst out of the asylum in an old school bus. “And their mission?”

---