Page 33 of Marked By Night

After we hold Sadie for a while, reassuring ourselves more than her that she’s okay, I give Kaos a meaningful look over her head.I’ll have Vinson come to collect them. We’ll take them back to the mansion for questioning.

He scoffs.If the first one isn’t already dead, he’ll never make it to the mansion. Look at the puddle.

One glance at the blood surrounding him shows Kaos is right. Ben is dead, and I feel absolutely no remorse over it. Because the marks and bruises marring Sadie’s perfect skin threaten to make my rage spill over and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to staunch the flow if that happens.

I’ll cast an Illusion to hide the blood and bodies until Vinson comes to clean up.

Kaos nods, nuzzling the side of Sadie’s head.

I take a deep breath, inhaling her tangy aroma. I know we need to clean this up, but Sadie is addicting. She smells like a mixture of fire and rain, which should be impossible, but it’s not. I’m starting to wonder if anything is truly impossible with her. She has a burning passion within her, yet she’s also the sunshine peeking through the trees after a storm has passed.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Angel,” I tell her. “You’re one of us now.”

16

Sadie

Dante stays behind to clean up the scene and take care of Tyler and Ben. His words, not mine, but I’m silently grateful to him. Kaos even retrieved my switchblade from Ben’s body for me, wiped the blood off, and stuck it back into my pocket without a word.

If it weren’t for them, there’s no telling what Tyler would’ve done in retaliation. I shudder thinking about it. What if…

No, don’t go spiraling down the what if rabbit hole, Sadie. It’s not worth it.Yet my brain still wants to replay the event over and over. Like the dagger in Ben’s chest and all the blood surrounding him. So much blood. I force all the trauma down in a box like I always do, locking it down tight. Then I throw away the key.

But my thoughts still wander. What about the mysterious fire that encased Tyler’s body before Dante threw him across the room.

What the hell was that?

Magic?

I scoff. Impossible. But what other explanation is there? None. Not any plausible ones anyway. I watched Dante control it, wield it, and dissipate it all with a flick of his wrist.

“What are you guys?” I ask softly.

Kaos’s muscles tense. “You truly don’t know?”

“Uh, know what?”

His eyes flicker to the crowd then back to me. “We’ll explain everything, but not here. There are too many eyes and ears. Can you trust us for the time being?”

Can I truly trust them? My gut says yes—and my gut is never wrong—so, I decide to go with it for now. “As soon as we’re out of the public eye, I want answers.”

“Fair enough,” he says.

One more mystery to add to the evergrowing list that is becoming my life. I mean, I’ve always known I was different, and now I’m that much closer to finding out, it seems like I’m still so far away.

Though, I understand his hesitation. Talking about sensitive things out in the open isn’t an intelligent choice. My brain knows that, but it doesn’t stop the itch of curiosity from riding me hard.

Kaos resumes walking, leading me a safe distance away from the crowd. The warmth of his arm around me is the only thing helping keep me tethered to reality. Every few seconds he glances in my direction, a silent apology in his eyes. I know he’s refraining from asking if I’m okay again, and I’m glad he doesn’t because I am. At least as much as I can be after what happened. I meant what I said.

Then again, a small part of me expected Tyler to try something like this. I ignored everyone’s warnings because he was the perfect gentleman when we first started dating, but the monster was always there. Lurking. Tyler is all valiant words and pretty promises that mean absolutely nothing. Some of the things Dante and Kaos have said to me already have meant more than our entire relationship.

Sadly, I remember the day his switch flipped, how his whole persona changed from nice to evil, like it was yesterday.My shift at Harborview ran over and I was late for our anniversary dinner. I knew as soon as I walked into his apartment that something was wrong. The air was stifling and suffocating, but I didn’t run.

I should’ve.

Especially when I saw him sitting at the table set for two staring blankly at the then cold dinner he cooked, with a knife propped up in his hand like he was waiting to dig in. He carefully set it down and the minuscule noise from the metal hitting the table made me flinch. I’ll never forget the look on his face.

“You’re late,” he whispers with barely controlled rage. His voice was like blood, so dark it could be misconstrued as black, tainted, overflowing with malice. The coppery metallic tang coated the air, banking his apartment in violence.

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