Page 34 of A Sin So Pure

Their skin is pale, ashen from the blood that’s drained from their veins. A dried red river flows from their throats and into a halo around their heads. I can only hope they were blessed with a painless death, but my heart knows otherwise.

It’s the terrified expression that’s frozen in their eyes that unleashes something dark and twisted inside of me, a monster thirsty for revenge.

They were under House Pride’s protection, working for us on this side of the Veil because we promised they’d be safe in doing so. They were under my care, and I failed them.

The crackling of glass signals Josie’s arrival in the doorway. She leans against the wooden frame—it’s a casual movement, though her stiff shoulders and tight jaw are anything but.

“Their daughter was upstairs when it happened,” she says. Her head shakes as she takes in the sight for herself. “The girl hid, but not before…”

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence.Not before she saw.

“Claude is keeping her at the warehouse until we’re ready to bring her back to Anwynn.”

My head bobs up and down, a never-ending nod, as I try to reel in my body’s response. But my deep breaths don’t do anything but fan the flame roaring in my belly.

I was already on edge when we got here, unmoored and quick to anger.

My attention snags on the wife, who lies closer to me than the husband. Her eyes are a bright green, similar to mine. And similar to my mother’s. I blink away the memories flashing at the edges of my vision; instead, I try focusing on the way her arm is stretched out towards me, reaching towards the cabinets. It’s purposefully pointed to the ruined kitchen cabinetry. And to the only cupboard that’s still closed.

My hand is steady when I reach for the handle; the hinges squeak as it swings open. It’s empty, save for a single folded piece of paper.

My fingers grip the note with white knuckles—the corner of the off-white cardstock creases under the pressure of my thumb. I flip it open and my stomach drops. In an elegant black script is a single sentence.

Happy anniversary, Pride.

The already taught wire grounding me in my body snaps.

Whoever did this,knows.

“Josie, I need a minute.”

“Nora—”

“I need a minute alone.”I meet her caring eyes and silently beg her to listen. My next word comes out as a command, but it’s a desperate plea. “Now.”

She’s seen me at my worst, and yet, I still don’t want her to see this.

Josie’s face is pinched in pain as she nods. “You get five minutes, and then I’m coming back in here.”

And then she’s gone. And I’m left alone with my grief.

It’s all-consuming, worse than I’ve experienced in years. My skin is hot and itchy, the air around me thick. My body acts on autopilot, doing anything to numb the overwhelm. The wall meets my fist, again and again and again. I barely register the pain of my knuckles splitting open beneath my gloves.

Unsatisfying.

My magic batters against the cage of my ribs. Its displeasure at not having an outlet is apparent.

Soon, I promise it—I promise myself.

This isn’t the anger of a broken mind or a broken heart.

It’s the anger of one that knows, with certainty, that there is retribution to be paid. For the sins of the past. And of the future. Because things likethis—this massacre—is just the beginning.

I know this. Josie knows this. We’ve seen it all play out before firsthand.

She watched the memories like a motion picture years ago, the same ones that are clouding the edges of my vision now.

They have broken free of their cages, and I can’t stop them.

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