Page 23 of His to Slash

My heart stuttered. “What are you talking about?”

“Think, girl,” the man opposite me hissed. “That nice little waitress you seemed so fond of? She’s missing, isn’t she?” His smile was sharp and vicious, every word laced with poison. “He took her—to a place where you won’t be able to resist following.”

My blood ran cold.The waitress. The only person in this town who had shown me a shred of kindness. “Where?” I demanded, my voice trembling.

“Where it all started,” the eldest elder murmured softly. “The old industrial site on the outskirts of town. The place where we made him, piece by piece.” His smile widened, dark and knowing. “If you want to save her, you’ll come. But I’m afraid you won’t like what you find.”

I stared at them, bile rising in my throat. They knew exactly what they were doing. They were using her—an innocent person—asbait. For me. ForGrayson.

“What do you think will happen, hmm?” The woman’s voice turned mocking, sing-song, like a dark nursery rhyme. “You show up, try to play the hero? Or maybe you’ll send your pet monster in, let him tear Cain apart?” She leaned in, close enough for her perfume to burn my eyes. “You want to know a secret? Cain’s going to kill him, darling. Your Grayson. And then he’s going to ripyouapart, piece by pretty little piece.”

I slammed my fist into the table, making the ceramic cup rattle. “And what happens when I tear him apart instead?” I snarled. “Then what?”

The eldest elder’s smile faded. “Then we’ll know how dangerous you really are.”

They stood to leave, their message delivered with a chilling finality. "Think about it," one of them muttered as they gestured towards the pill again before they all turned away, leaving me alone with the pill.

I stared at it, my heart pounding in my chest. Rage bubbled up from the pit of my stomach, hot and volatile. The cup trembled in my grip, the ceramic slick against my fingers. I blinked, trying to focus, but all I could see was red. The world narrowed, the voices around me fading into a dull roar as a dark, insidious strength unfurled in my chest, pulsing in time with my rage. Before I knew it, my hand clenched around the cup, and the ceramic shattered, fragments skittering across the table and onto the floor.

The sharp sound sliced through the diner's murmurs, drawing the attention of the few customers who had been trying their best to mind their own business. I didn't care. Let them look. Let them see the depth of my fury.

I was running out of time. Cain was hunting me, and the town elders had made it clear that they wouldn't—couldn't—protect me. They were the ones to set Cain on me in the first place. I was on my own, racing against an invisible clock, not just to save my life but to complete a transformation that I barely understood.

The broken cup was a symbol of the power I was only beginning to harness. I had to finish what had been started, to become whatever it was I was destined to be before Cain finished the job.

I stood up, knocking the pill to the ground, where it disappeared amidst the shards of broken ceramic. I wouldn't take the easy way out. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. I would fight until my last breath.

I made sure to place enough cash to pay for the coffee, the cup, and a tip, and as I walked out of the diner, my resolve hardened with each step. I could feel the eyes on me, the whispers trailing in my wake like the taunting lyrics of a morbid nursery rhyme. But I didn't look back. I had a killer to face, a destiny to fulfill, and a town to confront with the consequences of their sins.

I was ready to face whatever came next. I had to be. There was no turning back now.

twenty-two

I stumbledout of the diner, the cool night air slapping me in the face like a harsh wake-up call. The town elders' words echoed in my mind, a chorus of doom and despair. I was changing, transforming into something dark and powerful, and there was no stopping it now. I could feel it, a restless energy coursing through my veins, begging for release.

As I made my way back to the house, the world around me shifted. The night seemed darker, the shadows deeper, the sounds of the town sharper. I could hear whispers in the wind, the rustling of leaves like secrets being shared. My senses were heightening, my body humming with a newfound strength. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and I couldn't get enough.

I pushed open the front door, the hinges creaking like a scream in the silence. The house was dark, but I could see clearly, every corner, every shadow. I wasn't alone. Grayson was here, his presence a palpable force in the room. I could smell him, a mix of blood, sweat, and something uniquely him. It was intoxicating.

"Grayson," I called out, my voice steady, unafraid. I was ready for him, ready for whatever came next.

He stepped out of the shadows, his mask gleaming in the dim light. His eyes, those cold, calculating eyes, locked onto mine. He could see the change in me, sense the darkness rising. His head cocked to the side curiously before I saw understanding flash across his eyes. He was ready too.

"You're different," he growled, his voice low and guttural. It sent shivers down my spine, but not from fear. From anticipation.

"Yes," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. I could feel the power pulsing within me, begging to be unleashed.

He moved closer, his steps deliberate, challenging. He was testing me, pushing me to see how far I'd go. I stood my ground, my heart pounding in my chest. I was ready for this dance, ready to prove myself.

He lunged, a sudden, violent movement. But I was faster. I sidestepped, my body moving with a speed and agility I'd never known before. He was enjoying this, enjoying the chase.

We circled each other, predator and prey, but the lines were blurring. I was no longer the helpless victim, no longer the scared little girl. I was something more, something darker. And he knew it.

He came at me again, a flurry of blows. I blocked and countered, my body moving on instinct. We clashed, a brutal, violent dance. I could feel the power surging through me, my strength growing with each blow. I was matching him, holding my own against the monster that had once terrified me. I was never a fighter, but the magic within me almost came with an instruction manual once I had let it take over.

We ended up on the ground, wrestling for dominance. His weight pressed down on me, but I wasn't pinned. I fought back, harder than I ever had before. I could see the surprise in his eyes, the approval. He wanted this, wanted me to fight, to prove myself.

I bucked, twisted, my nails raking across his neck. He grunted, blood trickling from his skin. But he was enjoying this, enjoying the pain, the fight. He was alive, and so was I.

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