Page 128 of Even Vampires Bleed

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It’s a good thing I’m used to sneaking around because it made me study this room closely.

The wooden planks the floor is made from are old, and there are three spots in the room that creak—one being on Gabrielle’s side of the bed.

This is why I make my way to Michaël first.

I don’t wait.

I don’t take a minute to look at him and print his image in my mind.

He doesn’t deserve that.

He doesn’t deserve my consideration.

He doesn’t even deserve my attention.

But he still has it all.

He stole from me.

He stole Léandre’s life.

It’s my turn to steal his.

In one swift movement, I drop my left hand to his mouth and swing the butcher knife at his throat.

There is a wet cutting sound, but I don’t pause to listen if Gabrielle wakes up. I run to the other side of the bed and do the same.

But she indeed wakes up and tries to stop the descent of the knife.

She screams.

But she doesn’t seem to realize completely what is happening, because my knife goes through her hand and then stops its course in the middle of her throat.

She looks at me with vivid horror as bubbles of her own blood pour out of her lips.

That’s right.

I’m the one who did this.

I can’t wait and gloat, though, because her scream alarmed the guards, and I can already hear three people running down the corridor to get here.

For good measure, I grab both of their holos—conveniently on their respective nightstands—and smash them to the ground before forcing them through the hole at the bottom of the wall.

And then I shift and follow after the bits and pieces of Léandre’s doom through the trash system.

I did it.

I finally did it.

And now I’m going back home.

I need a freaking shower.

Maybe a scrub and another shower after, too.

And then, I need a bath for good measure.

And finally, I need days of sleep.

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