Page 164 of Heir of Illusion

A second later, I’m sprinting from the room. Remy’s wet laugh follows me through the halls as I leap over rotted pieces in the floorboard and race down the stairs. I reach the bottom and turn the corner into the living room, halting at the sight before me.

Like some sort of unholy tableau, bodies are scattered throughout the room in various displays of death. Mouths gaping and eyes wide, their faces are frozen with the terror of their final moments. A crack forms in my chest at the sight of Alice Darby’s lifeless eyes gazing at the ceiling.

In the center of the room, Thorne stands over a fallen Grell Darby, pointing a blade at his throat.

“Please,” the mortal begs. “You don’t have to?—”

His words end in a bloody cough as Thorne drives the weapon through Darby’s neck.

That’s right, a horrible voice whispers.Kill him for what he’s done to you. End his miserable life.

No. I stumble back as my gaze drops to the sword in Thorne’s hands. It’s not the scythe he usually uses, but I recognize it all the same. The once white bone handle has faded into a stale gray, contrasted by the glimmering rubies that sparkle along the pommel. The matching gems hanging from my collar burn at the sight of it.

The almanova.

Thorne lifts his head. Not a single ounce of recognition shines in his glacial eyes when they connect with mine. There’s no stopping the pitiful cry that falls from my lips at the hatred simmering in his gaze.

No. This can’t be real. He’s not one of them. He’s not gone.

You know you want to do it, that cruel voice whispers.

Thorne rolls his neck, and I spot a few drops of blood trailing from his nose and ears. He takes one step toward me before coming to a halt, his eye twitching from the strain.

He’s fighting it!

A bolt of relief shoots through me, sending life back into my limbs. He’s fighting against the sword’s hold. I search my memory, trying to recall Darrow’s words from weeks ago. He said a God or an Heir would be able to withstand the sword’s influence for a short time, but it would take all their strength. Based on the rigid way Thorne is holding himself, I’d say that strength is waning.

“Thorne.” His eyes flare at the sound of my voice. “You don’t want to do this.”

His spine twists as a shudder racks through him.

She makes you weak, Killian Blackthorne. She’d never understand the things you’ve been forced to do. The choices you’ve had to make.

I bare my teeth, hating every whispered lie that bastard utters. In the past twenty-four hours, my body has been pushed to its breaking point. I’ve taken hit after hit with no time to recover. But the years of brutal training Remy put me through have taught me to push aside the pain, the heartbreak, the terror. All of it. I clear it from my mind, leaving only blind determination behind as I take a step closer to Thorne.

To thealmanova.

His eyes widen at my movement, a hint of fear flashing behind their cold disgust.

“Nothing that thing whispers is true,” I promise him. “You and I make each other stronger.”

Lines appear around his mouth as he pulls his lips back, forcing a single word through gritted teeth. “Run.”

“No.” I shake my head as I lift a trembling hand between us, holding it out to him. “This is not the moment I stop reaching for you.”

She lies! When she learns the truth, she’ll turn away from you.She could never accept you for who you truly are.

Despite thealmanova’sugly lies, hope expands in my chest as Thorne lifts his hand toward mine, but it’s quickly dashed as his shadows wrap around my legs. They pull me down, forcing my body to hit the floor so hard that a few of the rotted pieces of wood crack under the impact. The wispy snakes take advantage of the moment, slithering over my limbs and binding my arms behind my back. I cry out as one of them pulls on my braid, twisting my head to the side at a painful angle.

End her now! Punish her!

Thorne’s arms shake from the strain as he lifts the blade, his eyes glued to mine. His jaw is clenched, his beautiful face twisted into a grimace. My heart stutters inside my chest as its beating becomes erratic. The unfairness of it all presses in on me. Why would the Fates bring him into my life only to cut our thread short in this moment? We were supposed to have more time.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, keeping my eyes on his as tears fall freely down my cheeks. A sad smile pulls at my lips as his words from a few nights ago drift back to me. “I’m not frightened of the violence inside you, Thorne. I know who you are.”

End her! Do it!

Determination shines in his eyes as he swings the blade. My gaze is locked on his as the sword drives through the air, straight toward my throat. I jerk from the impact, the force of it causing my head to bounce against the floor.

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