Page 2 of Deviant

“What other end did you expect? You think you can poke the dragon and not get burnt?”

I gulp forcing the bile back down my throat. I knew what I was doing was risky, I understood that, but it wasn’t about me, was it?

One of them yanks the gag from my mouth as if he really does want an answer. As if he’s expecting me to beg for mercy.

“Fuck you.” I spit as soon as I can get my tongue to work.

All my fear is still there, but I refuse to let them see it, refuse to give in. They want to kill me, fine, but my pride won’t let me die a coward. No, I’m going to go down fighting, prove that even if they have won, I’m not giving in entirely. I refuse to give them that power. I refuse to give them that satisfaction.

Cold metal presses against the back of my neck. I still, recognising instantly that it’s the barrel of a gun. Could I be this lucky to simply meet my end by a bullet? Have a quick, painless death? I don’t want to die but considering the alternatives, considering what theycoulddo, I’d take this any day of the week.

“The Brethren do not forget. The Brethren do not forgive.” Those words are stated like it’s a mantra, a vow they’ve all taken.

“Blow her fucking head off,” someone else orders, but another steps forward, into the streaming, stained glass light.

“Wait,” he says.

And I know that voice, I know it was well as my own. I can’t keep the tremble as it sinks in exactly who he is—Magnus Blake.

So he’s here, too.

The others turn to look at him. With all their masks on, I can’t see their expressions, but I know he holds enough sway to get whatever he wants.

“The crime was against me, was it not?” Magnus states.

“It was against all of the Brethren,” the main man replies.

Magnus shakes his head, producing papers,mypapers, and he flicks through them. “Most of this is about me, about my activities. If this were actually published, I would be the one most damaged by it.”

“What does it matter?” someone else asks.

“It matters,” Magnus says, staring right back at me now. “Because I want my own justice.”

“Justice?” I splutter. What justice does he think he deserves? He’s got more blood on his hands than the entire population of Rikers.

He closes the distance, grabbing my face in a vice-like grip. “This woman insulted me, I demand recompense.”

“Fuck you,” I snarl, but no one else is paying attention to me, not when Magnus is commanding all of it.

The others are all mumbling, discussing between themselves. There’s no way they can agree to this. No way at all. He might be powerful, but he doesn’t control all the Brethren. I draw in a ragged breath, reminding myself of that fact. They won’t agree, there’s no way they can.

“Her sentence still stands,” the main man says.

“Of course.” Magnus replies, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on me through that golden mask, watching my reaction as he speaks, “I’m just going to take my time before I carry it out.”

No.

No.

This can’t be happening.

I flail, I jerk my head back and smash it into his stupid mask, but someone grabs me and holds me tight.

“The more you fight, the worse it will be,” they taunt, whispering into my ear.

Worse? It can’t get any worse.

I’m dragged out, hauled out and tossed into the back of a van. My face slams once more into a hard surface, and for a second I lay there, dazed, immobile, while pain explodes behind my eyes.

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