Page 37 of A Sin So Pure

He rips the doors from the pantry cabinet’s hinges and spills the shelved contents onto the ground.

“We will find you,” he growls, taking his anger out on a bag of flour. Chalky, white plumes of flour waft at his feet. “You’re making it worse for yourself by staying hidden. Our little soul-stealer.”

He continues down the line of cabinets, and I freeze, terror seizing my muscles.

He will find me.

He will take me.

Will I be like Mother, covered in red?

My breaths are panicked, erratic. I clutch the wooden walls so hard my nails chip.

And then he’s there, ripping at the cabinet door—my only protection stripped away.

“There we are, Elenora,” he growls, and reaches inside to drag me from the depths of my hiding spot by my dress.

His bright green eyes glow as lightning flashes behind him.

But the Gods must have been angry he found me because the windows burst apart and another storm of shards, rain, and bullets fall over us.

I hear him curse, and he drops me. I tumble to the ground and throw my arms in front of my face, blocking the wet glass from piercing my eyes. When the chaos subsides, the white-haired man is gone, replaced with a rush of men in black suits with big guns strapped across their chests.

My body shakes, and I crawl towards the only comfort I can think of seeking.

My mother’s eyes are open when I reach her; open and glazed over like frosted glass, the emerald color leeched of its brightness. I paw at her round cheeks, her plump lips, her roman nose—but they are all cold. I cry into her chest, but there is no heartbeat to soothe me. Tears flow down my cheeks again, but I don’t try to wipe them away.

“All clear.” I hear someone say behind me.

“Check the perimeter and look for anyone else while Boss talks to the girl,” someone else says.

“Shit, Adam,” another whispers. “What did you get yourself into?”

Their conversation fades into the background. I don’t know how much time passes before a pair of shined black oxfords step into my line of sight. As I am racked with my sobs, I peer up at an older man with the sharpest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

He’s wearing a crisp gray suit, and his fingers toy with the button of his jacket, a jet-black stone set in silver glinting on one finger. He doesn’t blink as he crouches low and tilts his head with scrutiny. I freeze under his gaze, cowering from the power that radiates from him.

One devil fled, only to be replaced with another.

A saccharine smile spreads across his lips. He looks like the bad guy in the book I read at school.

“Hello there. I’ve heard a lot about you from your father, Nora,” he says. “My name is Pride.”

10

NORA

“I’m going to kill him.”

I brush my gloves off on my trousers, plaster dust streaking across the black fabric.

“What? Who?” Josie asks when I step from the kitchen.

She pushes off the wall she was leaning against.

“The one who did this,” I say.

I walk past her, needing to get out of this brownstone.

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