Page 34 of Omission

“Do you wish to spare his life?” My eyes penetrate hers; I await her command. One she gives with a minute shake of her head and I’m proud of her for understanding that a threat to one is a threat to all. That his attempt on her life, intentional or not, cannot be forgiven. “So be it.”

With my unoccupied hand, I pull out the opal dagger from my back pocket and flick it open. Its blade glints under the bright lighting seconds before I embed the tip just beneath his chin and up into his skull with one hard shove. At once, blood pools in his mouth and falls, creating another stain on my trousers.

Everything for him slows after…

His breathing. His functions.

Good riddance.

Dropping him to the ground, I pull out my dagger and clean the remnants of his sanguine mess off the sharp blade. Two quick swipes across my pants while I watch Anaya for any discomfort at the sight, yet her furrowed brows aren’t from disgust or fear, curiosity brims through our bond.

“What is it, precious?”

“Where did you get that? Have you had it this whole time?” I’m nodding as Gabriella and Theo pass us, silently walking into the room, both giving me nods of approval. The guard is kicked out of the way by the vampire king before the door opens and closes and it’s just us.

“I have. Xadiel gave it to me.”

“How did he come to have this? It’s been missing—”

“Do you recognize it?”

“Leonardo, that opal blade has been in my family for generations. It was stolen from my mother’s coffers years before I was born, she always lamented losing the gift handed down from her great-grandmother and meant for me later in life.” I’m shocked by that, but more so when she takes it from me and swipes her thumb across the hilt. At her touch, a series of curves appear in a cerulean blue shade that matches the aura I met hours earlier. They’re slow as if from disuse, coming together to create a singular word: Anaya. The look on my face, whatever she finds there, causes her to giggle. “Every owner’s name appears on the hilt when it’s passed down after the previous holder's death. It’s a tradition from my maternal side.”

“So this is yours?”

“It is.” Lovingly, she holds it to her chest. “This carries the essence of every queen before my mother, while hers is the strongest. We feed our blood to the dagger on the day we receive it, binding ourselves to each other.”

“I believe you.”

That surprises her, the shock clear on her face. “I’ve felt it for years. This inexplicable connection to it—as if it’s a part of me.”

“You kept it safe.”

“Yes, which makes sense.” Bending a bit at the waist, I place a small kiss at the corner of her smiling lips catching her off guard. Pink blooms across her cheeks at the action, the blush so sweet. So innocent. “Every part of you is mine, precious one. It came to me because it knew, someday, we’d meet and I’d be able to see this gorgeous smile sweep over your face.”

Her grin only widens. “You’re a smooth talker. Aren't you?”

“Only with you.”

“Yeah, you’re going to be trouble alright.” There’s mischief in her eyes, a lightness that wasn’t there earlier, before she places the knife back in my hand. “Hold it for me. I know it’s secure with you.”

“Always. It’d be my honor.” That trust makes me feel a hundred feet tall.

“Thank you.” Her tilts then, and Anaya’s about to say something else, hopefully, a little sassy as I enjoy this side of her, but then a scream rends the air. Our heads whip in the direction of the door, the high shrieks of fear turning into muffled sobs and she takes off before I have a chance to stop her.

The door bangs open from the force and I’m right on her heel, but stopped in my tracks at the sight that greets me. If a moment ago I felt pride, right now, I’m an asshole.

So ashamed of myself.

The man I thought to be a disgrace—a traitor to his kind—is emaciated and shackled by the ankle. Infection is contained to that area, but you can see the toll it’s had on his body. How long has it been like this? No man, mortal or other can survive a hundred years like this.

His body is bruised and broken from years of abuse. Then, there’s the vacancy in his eyes, as if he doesn’t understand reality and is lost within the stronghold of his fear. Uncle Roberto’s attention doesn’t waver from the wall opposite of him, the same place where Gabriella and Theodore are plastered against it while she holds a hand to her mouth.

This is my father’s brother.

This is what we allowed.

Uncle Roberto is dirty, yet his scent lingers. So much like our father’s but with notes of sweet citrus that weren’t there the last time I saw him. It’s a bit cloying. Causes my nose to twitch, but I don’t dare move and further unsettle him.

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