Page 40 of Omission

I’m in front of him in an instant, face to face with no space between us. He’s shackled to the ceiling after his earlier display, stripped of his dignity, too, since he soiled his clothes by breaking that toilet and causing flooding issues.

The grip I have on his face is tight and he grunts in pain when my blunt fingernails break skin on his chin. “So was killing my father and mother...innocent people. Or did you conveniently forget about that?”

“He suffers from selective memory, my king. Most pieces of shit do.”

“Such stupidity.” Releasing him, I pivot and his general slams right into Ruben’s ribs, the force dislocating his shoulder. It snapped back hard, but with no give in his shackles, the bone became unaligned.

“Merde!” His scream pierces, very high in pitch. “You idiot! Fucking shit, that hurts.”

“Quit crying,” Bruce seethes, wiping blood off his lip but more fall. It’s split at the center and only a healer with a steady hand will fix it. I’m not providing that. Don’t believe in wasting money. “I’ve taken the worst of it.”

“No. You haven’t.” Holding a hand out, I wait for Augusto to place a leather whip in my open palm. The robust material grips well, I’ve had this one made for punishment with a pattern on the hilt for non-slippage.

I give a test snap of my hand and it lands on the general’s hand, splitting the skin open at the center. This time his screams fill the room, quickly followed by the prince.

For each strike I unleash, the other gets an equal lash.

“Where is Silla?” I ask from between clenching teeth, brandishing another direct hit over Brice’s right flank this time. I’m spreading each one out, leaving a trail of welts beneath the torn shirts each man is wearing. “Who helped her?”

The woman Angelo named Lilou, who paid them to infiltrate my kingdom, is dead. I saw Isabella end her, but I’m sure she didn’t act alone, that one of these two helped.

“Don’t. Know.” Brice breathes through the pain a little better than Ruben, he’s more alert, too. “I have no idea who that is.”

“And Lilou?” That gets me a reaction. A bit of pain, but mostly anger. “What is she to you?”

“Dead.” It’s hissed out, the spittle staining my black shirt. There’s a tinge of blue to it, the dual tone almost making it appear violet. “My sister is dead because of your whore—” The insult is cut off by a single slice across the face with the tip of my whip. Pain explodes behind his processors; it’s etched on his face and the eyelid I’d managed to nick swells immediately.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

Yet his wings unfurl and wrap around him for protection, the sight of a broken pride. And while I’m not a cruel man, no part of me holds remorse for him.

Not for the death of his sister or his future, when he was a willing participant in Anaya’s cruel surroundings.

“You have enemies far more dangerous than us, King Leonardo.” Ruben’s head hangs from between his shoulders, his blood dripping from open wounds staining my floor. “From within.”

“All rulers do, Ruben. I’m not afraid.”

“For her, you should be.” The her is Anaya and the blood in my veins heats at the threat. I’ve been dangling from a precipice for so long, wanting my revenge, but everything takes a back seat when it comes to her. My mate. “Silla’s formidable. Cunning.” His chuckle turns into a cough mid-laugh, his body shaking from the pain. It takes a minute, but he manages to gather himself and look up. His eyes are haunted, yet I find no remorse. “You know she is. She fooled you all once, and a snake in the grass always has friends. Mow your lawn, Wiccan king, and watch your steps.”

That’s all I get from him, the questions on the tip of my tongue going unanswered as a second later, Prince Ruben passes out.

XXX

Present…

“Who is she to you, Leonardo?” There’s a bit of an accusation in her tone, but Anaya keeps her expression neutral. She also waits until everyone has left, including our family, before asking. “Why did she seem so possessive over a man who has a mate?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, my mate.” I’m holding two hands up as I turn to face her, my smirk turning into a full-blown grin. How can I not when I feel her jealousy through our bond? When the physical proof is staring me down with annoyance. She’s too adorable. “That witch is someone I want nothing to do with. Have never given her the time of day, no matter how much she’s wanted differently.”

“She’s possessive of you and I don’t like it.”

“I belong to you, Anaya.”

“You better.” With a huff, she turns and heads back up the stairs while clutching my shorts at the waist. My female is practically swimming in my clothes. “I’m going to shower, then figure out my life choices.”

“As you wish,” I call out, but get no response. And a second later, it’s the softest slam of a door that follows.

Even while being bothered, she holds back.

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