Page 135 of Malicent
Maybe I went a little overboard. I’m easily excitable around blood as well as annoyed about the collar. Now they know that even collared, I am perfectly capable of unspeakable violence.
“Well...I didn’t kill my guy,” Iris says, “Just sent him on his way after using the truth serum Kalix supplied. He knew nothing.”
“What did yours know?”
I wipe the remaining blood off my hands with a nearby sheet before tossing it onto the floor.
“He was going to report me to Arella,” I say. “She might be the Madame here, which makes her a good place to start. Manipulators aren’t exactly the subservient type. That she hasn’t shown her face yet tells me something’s off.”
I can’t pin down what it is, but her absence doesn’t sit right. For a woman supposedly in control, she’s staying far too quiet.
A sharp bang cuts through the room. I turn.
Ollie is still going, hammering the man’s finger to the wall like we’re finishing a mural. Completely oblivious as ever.
“Ollie, read the room,” I sigh. The moment for our playtime has passed.
He finishes with a delighted gurgle, then kisses his fingers like a chef admiring a dish. “Mwah!”
Then, a crash from below.
Iris’s eyes snap to mine; a silent understanding passes between us.
“Oliver, leave.”
He obeys, dragging his hammer into the shadows. The tether between us quiets as he fades, distant into another realm.
We move fast.
Downstairs, a brawl has erupted at the gambling tables. Kalix towers over a man, fists slamming down on his skull again and again.
“Oh, it’s your truth serum guy,” I say, masking a half laugh behind my hand.
I’d seen Kalix brimming with jealousy earlier, practically vibrating at the thought of anyone touching Iris.
Apparently, someone did, and now he’s snapped.
Iris doesn’t answer, she’s already sprinting down the steps to reach him.
He’s the one who needs a collar. Not me.
I scan the room below, which has descended into full-on chaos.
Arella. What the fuck does an Arella even look like?
If I didn’t have this damn collar, I could tear though their minds, find her in seconds. But no—I need himfor that. Cage. That insufferable, arrogant prick.
Just thinking about needing him for anything grates on every nerve.
His memories still swirl in the back of my mind. I haven’t processed them, haven’t even tried, really. I don’t know what to think. His pain reminded me of mine, too much. The panic. The helplessness. The desperation to reach me.
I grip the railing hard, shaking the thoughts from my head. Below, the party rages. Some fight, some laugh, others drink through it all. Just complete chaos.
Just like my mind.
I close my eyes and focus, feeling for Cage’s mental imprint.
Gotcha.
