Page 57 of Bound By Ruin

“In the woods.”

“What?” Serena’s eyebrows pinch together. “What the hell was she doing in the woods?” With a shake of her head, she dismisses her own question. “Never mind. Do you know what drugs she’s been given?”

“Not a clue.”

Serena glares at me, like it’s my fault that she’s been shot up with an unidentified street drug. “Then you’re dismissed.” She slams the sliding door shut, leaving me staring at my reflection in the van’s shiny black paint job. I don’t recognize much beyondpale, white blob, and I’m immediately thinking of Sara again—the most recent pale, white blob that may or may not survive. Not that anyone asked for my opinion, but I have little hope that Sara will pull through. If there’s one thing I’m familiar with, it’s death. And this girl?

She’s been marked for the grave. Once someone is marked, there’s nothing mortals can do to keep them alive.

I draw in a deep breath and stare up at the clouds obscuring the half moon, painting a hazy glow in the night sky. The mountain scape lingers just below, a row of sharp teeth capped in white, glowing brighter than the clouds as the moonlight blankets the snow.

What happens next with Sara is out of our hands.

But what happens out here, in these woods, on this mountain…

With our father.

…is in our hands. I knowexactlywhat I’ll do when I find him. I can feel his presence in my veins, like a sickness that latches on and won’t let go until you die. He hooked his claws into Sara and made her sick, too, infecting an innocent girl with his madness.

No one else has to die by his hand.

Loose gravel crunches under my boots as I turn away from the van and walk towards the woods. Thanatos calls out to me from behind, but it’s easy to ignore him. All of the voices in my head—the ones ringing in my ears, the man shouting at my back, and those surfacing from the depths of my mind—blur together until all I hear is static.

There’s a specific feeling that arises when I make the decision to kill someone. It’s a physical sensation—a tug in the back of my skull that pulls and pulls and pulls until the space behind my eyes begins to ache, my teeth feel like they’re being pushed back into my gums, and every bone in my body feels the pressure to snap. Being near Celia has lessened the tension so that I can breathe without that feeling getting in the way.

But right now, what I need most is to let that feeling in.

To let it guide me across the asphalt, beneath the arcing branches of an unkempt forest, and into the flurries of snow turning black in the shadows.

I’m going to kill my father before he hurts anyone else.

Celia’s voice suddenly cuts through the noise in my head, the image of her wide, sparkling eyes paired with the sound of her bubbling laughter as we tumble together on the trapeze net. I turn to the mountain and leave the sound of Celia’s voice behind, following the general direction that Sara appeared from moments ago. I’m looking for a path that Sara might have taken down, but of course, I find none, the tracks invisible in the dark. If she descended the mountain alone, it’s a miracle that she made it in one piece.

Unless she didn’t travel alone.

Unless someone stripped her naked only for the final stretch.

Unless that someone is still here, lurking in the shadows, waiting for his bait to lure in a catch.

A twig snaps behind me, and I spin around to face the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun.

My blood runs cold at the wicked smile glowing in the moonlight, the man’s eyes a similar shade to mine, his hair as unkempt as Emil’s, his muscle mass matching Nikolai’s, and his voice as deep as Thanatos’s. “Let’s go for a walk.” His eyes flash silver in the moonlight. “Yuri.”

Chapter23

Rage

Sweeping Celia offof her feet is impossible with my brother in the way. “Take Ted,” I tell Rebel, grinding my teeth, “andgo away.”

He rears his head back like I’ve slapped him. “Why the hell would I do that?” He throws his hand out to gesture at the unconscious man lying on the ballroom floor. “I’m not dragging his ass anywhere. He fainted; he should live with the humiliation.” Other guests for the gala pass us by, a few looking concerned at Ted’s sorry state.

We didn’t even touch him; he fainted on his own the minute we reached the bar.

“What a dumbass,” Rebel continues, sighing. “Let’s just leave him.”

“Not on the floor.” As much as I hate to admit it, Ted used to be important to Celia. We won’t win any favors by treating him like garbage—even if heisfucking trash. I remove my jacket, drape it over the back of an armchair, and snap my fingers. “Help me lift him.”

The two of us work together to set Ted on an armchair and make it look natural, like he passed out from drinking too much. I grab the first drink that passes by on a server’s tray and set it down on the table beside him, the little red beach umbrella sticking out over the rim making him look even more ridiculous.

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