Page 53 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

I tilt my head, flicking the top of the handle, making him cry out. “Cat got your tongue, Godfrey?”

I enjoy the sight of him suffering for a few more moments before I lean close to his ear. The metallic smell leaking from his body makes me shiver. I carefully undo the belt tying him to the chair so he can at the very least crawl to the door.

If the police grab me in the next ten minutes and throw me in prison, it will have been worth it to see Conner Godfrey poached and bleeding out.Stuck like a pig for acting like one.

“Let me make this clear. Don’t ever touch her again. Don’t breathe near her. Do not exist in the same space as her. Or I will rip your fucking head from your shoulders.”

He blinks, watery eyes filled with panic. Slowly, he nods, trying to keep himself as still as possible.

“Good, very good.” I pat the side of his cheek, standing up and walking towards the door.

“Oh, and Godfrey.” I look over my shoulder. “Keep this between us. I would sincerely hate for you to lose your job right along with your tongue.”

CRAVIN’

FOURTEEN

Thatcher

“Fuck, Thatch!” Rook shouts through the speaker on my phone. “Fuck, bro. We are beyond fucked. So fucked. The most fucked you could ever be in your life.”

“So we’re only unfuckwithable when you do something thoughtless?” I lean against the shelf behind me, watching Lyra strike a match on the floor, lighting a singular candle inside the compact storage closet.

“Yes, because I’m the irrational one. Me. You’re the anal control freak. This is not how—wait, did you just cuss?”

My eyes threaten to roll into the back of my head. Suddenly, I hear arguing in the background. I pull the phone from my ear as grunts and shouts echo through the speaker. Finally, Alistair’s steady voice is on the other side of the line.

Alistair: 1

Rook: 0

“Can you stay out of sight until we can figure out how to get you off campus?”

I look around the ancient closet that has had no visitors in quite some time.

“Yes, but try to make it quick. This supply closet is disgusting.”

“Sorry,” Lyra mutters, standing up from the floor, the light glow of the candle highlighting the contours of her cheeks. “Next time you stab someone in broad daylight, I’ll be sure to book a room at the freaking Four Seasons.”

She’d been the one to find this room, concealed on the top floor of the Bursley District, inside an unused classroom that had once been a chemistry lab. I didn’t bother asking her how she knew it was up here.

Probably another one of her secret hideaways.

“Just stay there. I’ll call you soon. And Thatcher?” He lets out a heavy sigh. “Was he worth it?”

I look at the girl in front of me. Waves of ebony curls frame her delicate face. She tugs off the chunky black sweater she’d been wearing, leaving her in an unholy tight T-shirt and brown pleated skirt that hangs off her waist.

“No.” I press my fingers on the bridge of my nose as my eyes close. “But she was.”

The line goes dead, and silence is all that’s left.

My adrenaline is crashing, plummeting with such speed that it makes my head ache. I want the lack of endorphins to cure my irrational behavior and wait for the feeling of regret.

But from the moment I shoved that knife into Conner’s mouth to the second I left that office, I felt nothing.

No fear of spending my life inside a metal cage. No disappointment from getting caught. No anger at myself for letting my control slip.

I feel absolutely nothing.

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