Page 106 of Wicked Salvation
“You should’ve stayed obedient,” he says, voice tight. “You should’ve worn the ring. Smiled at the cameras. Let me fix things.” He yells out.
He stops at my side, crouching. Hair sticks to my temples, and he bruises some of it away like he’s comforting me. But his hands are clammy and cold, sending a chill down my spine.
“But no,” he whispers. “You had to be difficult. Had to go crawling to him. Lucian. Like he could save you.”
Thatenrages me. So much that I spit in his face.
There’s nothing I can say that will get through that thick skull of his. But I can certainly do things to piss him off. But he wipes my spit off his face and licks it.
Then, he laughs.
“Still spirited. That’s what I liked about you,” he says. “That’s what made you worthy. You think I did all this just because you had money? No. There were girls before you who I could have chosen.”
He rises to his full height again, arms outstretched as he walks back behind me.
“I chose you, Eden. Not just because of your name. Not your looks. Not your bloodline. But also because your soul burns. And that’s what The Spirit wanted. That’s what made you the perfect offering.”
My heart drops.
“Offering?” I whisper. “What are you talking about?”
He grins. “You still don’t get it, do you? You still think this is about love. About hurt feelings and broken engagements. No, darling. This is about faith. Aboutpower.”
He paces, slow and reverent.
“After I met you, The Spirit demanded a sacrifice,” he says. “But not just any sacrifice. She had to be brilliant. Beautiful. Difficult. And so I chose you. But to prepare you—well.” He chuckles. “We had to weaken you first. Break you down. Piece by piece. But you broke the bond that night at the boathouse.”
His eyes gleam. “That’s why I had to use Vivienne.”
My stomach turns.
“What?” I breathe.
“Vivienne’s death was necessary. She was… the trial before the offering,” he says, like he’s explaining the weather. “She got in my way, so I gave her just enough rope to hang herself.” His laugh is hollow, and my blood runs cold. “But it was Anastazya who gave her the final push.”
“You killed her.”
My emotions go haywire. Disgust. Horror. But most of all,anger.
I was right—Vivienne’s murder wasn’t an accident.
Silas did it.
The boy she told me not to date.
The boy she told me to stay away from.
My choices killed my closest friend.
“She was in the way,” he says, shrugging. “She was going to expose us. She saw the rituals. The knives. The blood. She knew about what we got up to down here, and she wanted to thwart it all. It would have ruined my whole plan.”
He leans in, hands on either side of my head, his face inches from mine.
“But you didn’t need saving,” he whispers. “You needed belonging. And now, you’ll have it.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. I won’t let him see how much he’s affecting me. But there’s a hole where my heart used to be. A gaping, insatiable hole filled with memories of Vivienne, especially thelastone.
Her body, like a broken mannequin after its final act.
