Page 4 of Inside the Wicked

Alistair was right—classes are a waste of my damn time, and so I gather my things and leave the hall. To my irritation, Adam follows me.

“Listen, I’m trying. We’re all fucking trying, yet you won’t let anyone in.”

“Then take the fucking hint.”

Adam’s hand lands on my shoulder, intending to push me against the wall, but I move on instinct. Months of intense, often brutal, training have me grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm back, which he hisses at. Then I force his front against the wall instead.

“Shit,” he says through a breath. “What the hell has he been training you to do?”

“Do I need to put you on your ass to make it more obvious?”

No one knows that some days I spend eight hours straight in Alistair’s underground training room at the secluded mansion fighting men twice my size until I can outwit them in combat, though they always outmatch me in strength. Sometimes I’ve been so exerted beyond my limits that Alistair has carried me to a room and I’ve stayed the night at his manor, only to wake at dawn and do it all again.

“Nope. Point taken.”

I release him with a shove, heading to the parking lot.

“Are you going to his place now?”

“No. I have a party to get ready for, remember?”

“Ahh, right. I’ll see you there, A.”

I don’t answer as Tony opens the door for me to slip inside. Maybe I’ve become a coldhearted bitch to those around me, but if they’d seen inside the wicked and lost what I have, they’d bebroken too. And it’s either let the pieces cut inside or aim them at the enemy.

CHAPTER 2

Rhett

The small nail I dug out from a crevice in the wall weeks ago scores the stone. It’s the only way I can keep track of how much time has passed, and it’s the third one I’ve found. The previous two ended up in one guy’s eye and another guy’s jugular. I kept this one though. I need something to keep track of the days.

I finish the two curves, the familiar scrape of the metal across stone always delivering a new kernel of despair. Another day without my little bird. I trace my carving, then my hand drops as I tip my head back and stare up at the wall covered in them.

Ninety-three little birds scatter the concrete, and I sit here like the disturbance that sent them flying.

I’m not surprised it’s been so long. I don’t expect Xoid to find me when Alistair would have been meticulous in where he decided to keep me. He had a long fucking time to plan.

He’s trying to break me, condition me. My skin has been carved, burned, and drowned. My mind has been tested for pain and endurance, but I know this is only the beginning of his plans for me.

Of everything that could hurt me, the real torture is watching Ana. I’ve not seen a hint of color on her in these long,agonizing months. Seeing her onscreen every day, whether in that wretched office or at training, makes me forget so much time has passed even though I can see her changing before my very eyes. I can see the slow spread of darkness in her heart, and I hope she keeps the strength not to let it go cold. The darkness can be wild and passionate, but ice will only ever be numb and unforgiving.

All that keeps my heart warm is the thought of getting back to her. The hope that she’ll forgive me for leaving her all this time and that we’ll be able to work through it.

Fuck,I love her so painfully it’s all that’s keeping me alive.

The black screen floods with color, and I shift, facing it. Ana is in Alistair’s office. She’s become so at ease there, and whether it’s through masterful composure or genuine familiarity, I can hardly bear it.

I believe she’s smarter than to fall for whatever Alistair offers. My only conclusion, seeing her so dedicated to him—training, practicing, conditioning—is because she’s preparing. Ana wants revenge, and my little bird has somehow figured out how to grab my uncle’s interest. It’s no easy feat. Being the president’s daughter wouldn’t have had him personally taking her under his wing.

No—she’s harboring a plan right under his.

It terrifies me. One wrong move, one slight slipup, and it won’t matter who she is. Alistair is not merciful.

Before all this, I wanted to keep her away from me to prevent what I’m watching unfold. Now I see that we need each other for balance. It’s never been clearer that Anastasia Kinsley was made for me and I for her.

I think he’s making me watch to get me to concede. But I know him. Saying I’ll be his weapon, as he’s always wanted, won’t reunite us. He’ll make me prove my loyalty, and thatwould mean giving up Xoid. Not just disbanding but turning on them all. Perhaps even killing them.

I will never.

---