Page 3 of The Devil's Trials
My chest constricts at the thought of her. Of the last look we shared. She’s likely questioning everything about what happened at the compound, trying to figure out why things went down the way they did.
What is she thinking right now?
Will she believe I didn’t plan to kill Lucia?
It doesn’t matter.
Whatever path my life was on with Camille just became a dead end. The best—theonly—option now is to leave it behind. Leaveherbehind.
I shouldn’t feel the tug of discomfort in my gut at that, and yet there’s something urging me to feelsomething. It’s as if my emotions are locked behind a door I no longer have the key to. They exist somewhere, but I can’t access them.
That makes it far easier to move closer to complacency with the darkness that lingers closer to the surface than ever. It would be so simple to let go and give myself over to it. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what keeps me from doing just that. I suppose there’s a shred of humanity left in me, after all. Maybe that will fade in time, too, or perhaps not having a soul doesn’t mean a complete absence of human emotions like I once feared.
“Hey,” Blake says, and my gaze cuts toward him. “There’s a lot happening at the moment, but you’re not alone. I’ve got you, mate.”
All I can do is nod.
“Were you thinking about Camille?” he asks, cutting into my spiraling thoughts.
My temples throb until I realize I’m clenching my jaw so tightly I’m sure to crack a molar if I don’t relax. I blow out a breath. “You’re going to tell me to forget about her.” It’s not a question. Hell, she’d be far better off without me in her life, especially now. And yet, I’m not confident I have the power to walk away from her.
“Do you want to forget about her?”
“I wanther,” I say without hesitation. My desire for Camille didn’t vanish with my soul, but it feels darker. More carnal, possessive. Like I’ll destroy anyone that tries to keep us apart.
She. Is. Mine.
Nothing and no one will keep me from her.
TWOCAMILLE
Memories play on a loop in my head like the flashes of lightning striking across the dark sky as we speed toward Seattle.
The cold throne room with crimson walls and marble floors.
My best friend, bloodied and bruised.
Lucia’s hand around my throat.
Xander shoving an obsidian dagger through her heart.
Flames burn between my ribs, and I wince at the sensation of heartburn that blossomed in my chest when the queen of hell turned to ash. It was slowly fading…until my thoughts tumbled back to the scene we left in Portland.
By the time we arrive at headquarters nearly three hours later, news of Lucia’s demise has swept through the organization. I don’t know if it was one of the demon hunters who’d fought with us—the twins, Rylee, or Sophia—who filled them in. It doesn’t matter. Everyone knows Xander is…That he…
“Cami.” Harper’s voice pulls me back from the edge of a downward spiral, and I blink until I can focus on her face. “Come on,” she murmurs.
We follow Noah from the parking garage into the building, and I frown when Harper nudges me to get in the elevator.
This is the last place I want to be. I’d like nothing more than to go home, crawl under the blankets in my bed, and pretend today didn’t happen. The urge to curl in on myself, to hide from reality, is strong. My stomach is queasy, and I briefly consider the chances of throwing up as I grit my teeth against the bile rising in my throat.
I stand in the corner, gripping the handrail so tightly the cool metal digs into my palms as we ascend to the office level in silence. The buzz of multiple voices slams into me as the elevator door slides open, and I immediately press against the wall, unable to draw in a full breath.
Noah steps off first, casting a look over his shoulder. His tired blue-gray eyes connect with mine, and I clench my jaw as I struggle not to cry. He shakes his head and offers in a gruff voice, “You can’t fall apart yet.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, willing the burning in my eyes to recede as Harper wraps her arm around my shoulders, squeezing gently until I start moving.
My steps are heavy, as if I’m trudging through ankle-deep mud as we pass a row of meeting rooms filled with a sea of all-black uniforms. Hunters are shouting to be heard over others, while the rest sit and stand around the rooms with grave expressions.
