Page 49 of Cursed

“We need to be willing to risk everything,” he said without looking back at me. “Lucian won’t take kindly to our intervention.”

Compromise wasn’t something that came easily to us Romans. Losing wasn’t something we did. Whatever the cost might be, someone else always paid it. That’s what had brought us to this point—and it was how our power had grown over the years… I didn’t know any other way to be.

But Valen was right.

“Alright,” I sighed after a lengthy pause, “I’m in.” Valen nodded once and then stopped short. The door was hidden, but not from us. He raised his hand and pressed it against the stone wall of the house. The pale blue smoke of his magic wrapped around his fingers and then worked its way between the stones. Mortar cracked and crumbled as the doorway revealed itself, and Valen stepped back as it swung inward.

“After you, brother,” he growled.

“Very kind,” I quipped as I stepped past him and ducked into the darkened hallway. I didn’t feel prepared to talk to Titus—but Valen seemed determined. If that’s how he wanted it to be, I’d let him do all the talking. Titus was more likely to lash out when he was angry—better him than me.

The knife slicedthrough the air, a whisper of intent that ended with a satisfyingTHWACKas it embedded itself deep into the target’s heart.

I felt the pulse of my magic in the chamber, crackling around me, and the swell of my own violent satisfaction. With every throw, I unleashed fragments of my rage and sought solace in the precision of the blade’s flight.

I hurled another knife and relished the coiling of my muscles and the controlled fury of each strike. The stone walls of the chamber seemed to absorb my aggression, and the damp chill wrapped around me like an all too familiar embrace. Shadows danced within the flickering light and twisted into grotesque shapes on the uneven walls.

THUNK.

Another perfect strike.

“Thought you’d miss that time.”

Bastian.

My fingers curled around the hilt of a third blade and I lifted it high, ready to throw.

“Shut up,” I snarled.

“What happens when you throw those knives at something that can fight back?” he taunted.

Without hesitation, I spun toward the sound of his voice and loosed the knife.

The blade flew across the room quicker than a striking viper, but Bastian was ready.

The black smoke of his magic caught the blade mid-air. It hung there, quivering, an inch from his smug face.

Slowly, Bastian twisted his hand, and the knife turned back toward me. Bastian’s lip twitched, and the blade streaked toward me, propelled by Basian’s magic. I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. But the sound of the blade cutting the air whooshed past my ear—almost too close—and spun in a graceful arc toward the target.

It struck the target with a resoundingTHUNK.

I didn’t have to turn around to know that it was embedded next to its brethren.

“That’s cheating,” I said flatly.

Bastian shrugged.

He sauntered into the room, blond hair wild and mischievous, an innocent mask that barely hid the predator that lurked beneath the surface. His pale eyes sparkled with mischief.

Irritation simmering beneath my skin as I watched Valen enter the room behind him. Nothing good happened when those two were working together.

“What do you want?” I spat. Their casual presence was an unwelcome intrusion, and I didn’t like the look on Valen’s face. “Did you come here to applaud my skills or ruin my solitude?”

Valen shook his head. “We have news that demands your attention more than those blades do.”

“What news? There’s nothing happening— Lucian would have sent for me.”

“It’s about Avril,” Valen said.

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