Page 485 of Shadowblood Souls
I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, but the shape of her face was like mine, wasn’t it? Rounded cheeks and a pointed chin.
And my eyes… Staring back into Balthazar’s, I can’t help noticing that his bright brown irises are only a shade or two darker than mine.
“No,” I sputter. Somehow I’m on my feet, though I still don’t feel like I’m fully in control of my legs. “If the way you treat family is the way you’ve treated me, then I don’t want anything to do with it. I’m not your anything.”
His piercing eyes narrow. My hands clench into fists, and a shriek scrabbles in the base of my throat, wishing he was actually in front of me so I could unleash it on him.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Balthazar says with a cold edge. “You’re simply startled. You were made for this. Your grandparents fought the monsters, and I have, and you will. This is where you belong.”
A tremor runs through my body. I jab a finger toward the screen. “I’m never going to belong with you!”
Balthazar’s lips pull back from his teeth. And a bolt of pain shoots up both my arms from my wrists—from the manacles.
The burning sensation sears deep in an instant, making my lungs seize up and my knees buckle. I can’t hold back a cry as I slump to the floor.
No blood pours from my wrists, but he’s hurt me some other way, maybe another chemical he never told us about that the manacles hold alongside the sedative. It sears through my nerves until I’m blinking back tears.
“I haven’t been there to educate you,” Balthazar growls. “You’ll learn.”
Then he’s gone, the screen gone black.
The pain fades gradually. After a couple of minutes, I manage to push myself into a sitting position. My head spins.
I don’t even know how to start thinking through what our captor just told me. What he just did to me, in spite of who he claims I am.
Toni is standing on the other side of the chair I sat in, her face tight, her shoulders stiff. “I—I could help you back to your room,” she offers quietly.
I flinch instinctively and shake my head. “No. I’ll get there myself.”
If she wants to gawk, I don’t want her doing it right there beside me.
After a few more careful breaths, I swipe at my eyes and heave myself to my feet. Lingering pricks of pain travel through my nerves, but I manage to walk fairly steadily.
Down the hall. Up the stairs. Into my room. Every step feels like I’m dragging my feet through hardening cement.
I’m Balthazar’s daughter. He made me in his image, for his purposes. How much of his madness is woven right into the essence of who I am?
How the hell can I help the guys I love get out of this horror show when I’m complicit in it down to my DNA?
Twenty-Seven
Riva
The wind outside is biting, but it fits my mood. I roll my shoulders to pull the hood of my sweatshirt farther forward and keep my head low as I stalk around the villa.
The guys follow me, silent but a concrete presence around me. Their concerned anticipation weighs on my spirits, but not half as much as the news I need to give them.
Around the back of the building, the wind eases. The autumn air there still holds a chill, but one that’s not outright snapping at us.
Part of me wants to find a bench to sit down on so I can hunch in on myself. So I can let go of the need to ensure my legs hold me up while focusing on the conversation.
But if I sit, then I know the guys will gather even closer, tucking themselves against me, and the thought sends a pang of terror through my chest.
I was made by our greatest enemy, to an extent way beyond what any of them could guess. I have the sense of a toxin aspotent as the one lacing Jacob’s hidden spines winding through my veins alongside the shadows, one that might somehow seep from my skin and into my guys if I’m not careful.
One that maybe already has.
How are they going to look at me when I tell them? How is it going to shake them up, knowing that their connection to me also ties them to Balthazar in ways they’d never have wanted?
