Page 151 of Fated In Blood

You have to get the knife.

I swiveled my eyes to my right. Malachi was dead serious, and I fought my urge to laugh.It’s as fucking broken as you are, and even more worthless.

Even so, my gaze drifted to the blade, or what was left of it. Ten feet away. Too far for me to reach, no matter how fast I moved. And if I so much as flinched, Tyrell wouldn’t hesitate in slicing me from ear to ear.

Not worthless…get the knife.Even now, when everything had gone to shit and he was lying on the floor unable to move, there was a hint of exasperation to his order. Think, Evangeline. The answer’s been right in front of you all along. Laurent might be impervious to silver…

But he never mentioned gold.I finished for him.

Laurent Tyrell.Malachi was right. The answerhadbeen right in front of me, but I’d been too blind to see it. Back at White Chapel, Uncle Alistair forced me to memorize a rudimentary amount of Latin.

It might come in handy,he’d said in all seriousness,when you least expect it.

The core of the knife is gold.And Laurent Tyrell, arrogant to the core, had named himself after his only weakness. I’d never actually seen allegory brought to life, but here we were.

“Get her downstairs. I want her on a slab and under fucking control. Now,” Tyrell ordered, firming his grip on my hair. “Let’s find out if Silas has been telling the truth all these years.”

There was a blur of movement, not fast, more like a smudge of color in the darkness at the furthest corner of my eye, just outside the glow of the fire.

“Laurent?” Angel blinked adoringly at Tyrell, her hair falling in a tangled mess to one side, red lipstick smeared across her pale cheek as she limped toward us. “What…what happened? I was eating dinner, then I woke up here, by the fire.”

Angel drifted closer. “I had such odd dreams, Laurent. So very odd.”

My sister gazed so raptly at fucking Tyrell, I doubted she even noticed he held a knife to my throat. At her approach, he lowered his elbow, and the cold bite of steel eased off enough for me to suck in a full breath.

“Sit back down and shut up until I’m done here.” He jerked his head toward the fire, but my sister kept moving toward us like she was caught in a daze, that empty expression softening her beautiful face as she reached up and tenderly brushed his shoulder.

“Oh, Laurent, I would love to.” Angel gave him a sweet, dreamy smile, the kind they wrote about in fairytales, her cheeks glowing pink from the heat.

“But instead, I’m afraid I’m going to help my sister kill you, youmonstrous fuck.”

58

EVANGELINE

Ididn’t know who was more shocked, me or Tyrell, but his momentary hesitation bought Angel the time she needed to jam the dagger’s hilt into my hand and stab three fingers straight into Laurent's eyes.

I moved before the thought was even fully formed, before my hand had fully curved around the smooth leather handle, my body becoming an extension of the weapon. This was what I was born for.

What I’d trained for, night and day for all those years.

This was muscle memory and twisted loyalty to my family and rage for my sister, all wrapped up together into a deadly package of intent, delivered straight to Tyrell’s turkey-thin, outstretched throat.

Right between the two major tendons and a vicious twist to sever both carotid arteries. A direct hit, so that even if the magic in the knife didn’t work, even if he killed me, the blow would incapacitate him long enough for someone else to take him out.

I’d accounted for damn near everything, except how strong my rage made me.

The blade punched through one side of his neck and out the other, showering my poor sister with blood, the forceful blow obliterating half of Tyrell’s throat. His eyes went wide, hands clawing at the gaping wound on his neck, blood pouring out in gout.

I stepped directly in front of him. “This is for taking Angel.” I stabbed him again, straight through his Adam’s apple, twisting that blade mercilessly as I yanked it out, metal grinding against bone.

“And this is for Cassmira.” There was a sharp intake of breath behind me.Blake.But I didn’t hesitate. This final, fatal blow I angled upward, until the broken, shattered end embedded deep in his brain.

Laurent’s eyes met mine, then I stepped back with a gasp, pulling Angel with me.

I watched him decay in fast motion, Tyrell’s once piercing gaze fogging over like frost on a windowpane, the flesh on his face melting down the front of his elaborate, ruined waistcoat as if he was made of wax and left out in the blazing sun.

It’s working.Blake’s voice came out raspy, even in my head, but he was talking.How did you know the knife would work? How did Angel know?

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