Page 44 of Kingdom of Chaos
The fluorescent bulbs overhead stutter and dim, bathing the diner in a sickly, unnatural hue.
Conversations fade. The warmth seeps from the air.
And when I look up, I see him.
Kerrim.
He’s standing in the doorway. Unassuming, with his glasses perched on his nose and salt-and-pepper hair brushed back off his forehead. He looks exactly like I remember him, but every part of me recoils.
His gaze sweeps the restaurant, the once-friendly glint in his eyes sharpening into something cold and shrewd when they land on mine. Then slide to Becks.
“No,” I breathe, scrambling to stand. But my limbs don’t obey. My legs won’t move. My voice barely carries.
Becks doesn’t seem to realize anything is wrong. He’s still facing me as Kerrim crosses the dining room toward us, eachstep echoing sharply in the sudden silence. Shadow Striker appears in his hand, black and humming with power.
I try to scream, to warn him, to move, to do anything, but I’m frozen.
Kerrim plunges the blade into Becks’ back and the tip punches through his chest. His warm blood sprays across my own, hot and jarring.
Becks’ mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes wide with pain and disbelief as he slips from the booth. Blood spills across the checkered floor, soaking into the seams between tiles as the crimson pool spreads beneath him.
He looks at me like I’m the one who drove the blade into his back, his gaze heavy with hurt and betrayal.
My breath catches. My heart shatters.
And then?—
He changes.
Blond hair darkens. His jaw sharpens. It’s not Becks lying there anymore.
It’s Talon.
His bloodied hand twitches on the floor. He lifts his head just enough for our eyes to meet, and there’s nothing but pain in his gaze.
Chilled laughter fills the air as Kerrim stands over him, bloodied dagger still clutched in his fist.
Hate surges through me, burning hot, mixing with the horror already twisting in my soul.
I scream Talon’s name—finally able to move, to speak—but the moment I do, the diner crumbles around us like ash in the wind.
And I wake.
Heart pounding.
Sheets tangled.
The echo of Kerrim’s laughter still ringing in my ears like a curse.
Amazingly,my thrashing didn’t wake Ensley, but I can’t fall back asleep. I don’twantto. Too scared I’ll be faced with gruesome scenes of a deranged Kerrim plunging Shadow Striker into the chests of everyone I know and care about.
After tonight, I know one thing for sure: whatever affection I might have once had for the former shop owner was burned away the moment he slammed the dagger through Becks’ chest, leaving only hate in my heart for him.
Just after dawn, I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom, head low as I try to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. Talon’s anguish, Kerrim’s sadistic glee, and worst of all, Becks’ face, twisted with pain and betrayal, won’t leave me.
I grab my toothbrush and notice my hand shaking. It wasn’t real, but my body doesn’t know that. It takes longer than it should to wash my face and brush my teeth, and when I step out of the bathroom, Imogen and Ensley are already in the guys’ room. I shove my essentials into my new backpack and get ready to go, but I’m no calmer than when I woke.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. Three counts in through my nose. Three counts out through my mouth. Again. And again.
