Page 1 of Tethered Souls
Prologue
HIM
He’s fighting for his life, but I’m just working out my frustrations. Twisting out of the way of his knife, I pivot sideways. My right arm snaps into his nose. He stumbles back, and I follow, kicking his kneecap. He sinks to the ground on a scream. The blade lowers, and I’m on him in a second, through the gap of his defense. Grabbing both sides of his head, I jerk it down as I lift my knee straight up into his nose.
Crack!
The broken bones of his face fly into his brain. Blood sprays down my leg. The knife clatters to the padded floor of the gym. Releasing his head, I shove my foot into his chest, kicking him onto his back.
The air shifts behind me, and the next prisoner runs at me.
My nostrils flaring, I breathe in his scent. I shouldn’t be able to pinpoint where he is by that alone, but my senses have always beenmore. Another reason I’m a freak.
Jumping as I spin, I kick him in the side of the head. He staggers sideways, his eyes crossing, the light fading. Then he is dropping, the bones near his temple having severed the underlying artery when they shattered.
He’s practically dead, but I keep going. A foot to his chest. Another to his face. His body hits the ground, but my frustrations don’t die with him.
“You’re nothing but an abomination.”
“You don’t deserve to be Boss.”
A third man rushes me.
I’m a witch without magic. Nothing but a thing to be put down. My father left when I failed to enter my ascension – that moment where a child of the supernatural world comes into their powers around puberty.
My opponent ducks low to wrap his arms around my waist, hoping to lift me despite my two hundred and fifty-odd pounds of muscle. I bring my hands together and slam them into the back of his head before he can even try. The bones at the base of his skull fracture beneath my blow. His arms go slack, but he isn’t dead. Just unconscious.
My father was a progeny, his range of telekinesis was unheard of in a witch. He was picked for that reason alone to breed with Mother, so their children would be powerful, untouchable.
Yet, here I am with no innate powers, no healing magic. I can’t even work any learned spells or summon a demon or even use a fucking pre-spelled wand – three things a merehumancan do.
“You’re a failure to the Shadow name.”
I shove my opponent off me, but I’m not fast enough to avoid the new knife at my back. I’m notgoodenough. Pain flares across my ribs as I twist and the blade cuts a five inch line from near my spine to my side.
“Don’t!” I snap as my brother, Khalid, shifts ever so slightly.
He’s my bodyguard, the reaper of this Family, and he’s standing off to the side of our gym, waiting to intervene as necessary. But it isn’t fucking necessary.
Only allowing the prisoners to come at me one at a time isn’tfucking necessary.
I need more. A higher risk. But Khalid, won’t let me take it. I’m toovaluable. And he’s too full of responsibility and guilt over one mistake he made thirteen months ago. So I make do with what I have. Frustrations but no complaints. I crack his ribs, rupture his veins. Bruises and more freely flowing blood form beneath his clammy skin. I pull back, dodging the wild swings of his knife, then dart in again. My feet hustle left and right, keeping me moving. The man swings, and I follow. My back burns. Blood seeps down it, but I don’t stop.
“You’re an abomination.”
Yeah, I am.
So fucking what.
“You don’t deserve to be Boss.”
No, I don’t.
But neither did any of those who ruled this Family before me. We were all born into this role. No one earned it. No one had tofightfor it. A few killed off their older siblings so they could gain the title of heir, but their claim was still only respected because of their bloodline.
The same blood that runs through my veins.
“You’re a failure to the Shadow name.”
