Page 123 of Behind the Shadows
“Death,” Ella said, quiet but firm.
He didn’t look at her. His attention was locked on me like I was the kill he couldn’t end fast enough.
“He’s not the enemy,” she added.
“He handed us to the enemy,” Death snapped.
“I was a kid,” I said. My voice wobbled, but I didn’t care. “A teenager when they started drugging me, chaining me in the basement, and carving shit into my back. You think I chose this?”
The silence hit like a punch. Even the walls seemed to hold their breath.
Dope swore. “Jesus Christ …”
I laughed, the sound bitter and humorless. “Yeah. That’s who they prayed to while they destroyed me.”
Ella stood, slow and measured. “You were a weapon, Kip. A pawn.”
“Not anymore.”
Death crossed his arms. “So what now? You just walk back in and say sorry? Sorry I fed your whole goddamn life to a psychopath?”
My jaw locked. “I didn’t know. I don’t know how to make this shit right. You have no idea how fucking twisted up I am about this. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I turned toward Ella, and something in her expression reminded me of the night the Pied Piper had a discussion with her. She’d never told us what he’d said. I suspected she couldn’t. That he was holding something big over her head.
Before the words even fully left my mouth, Death moved.
One second, he was across the room. The next—his hand was at my collarbone, shoving me hard against the stone wall behind me. My shoulder cracked into it with a thud that echoed through the cabin.
“You don’t get to be sorry,” he growled. “You don’t get to come back from this.”
His breath was hot against my face, full of rage, betrayal, grief. The kind of fury that came from someone who’d buried too many people and wasn’t willing to lose one more.
I didn’t fight him. I deserved it.
“I didn’t know,” I said again, quieter this time. “I swear to god, I didn’t know.”
“You were in our house.” His voice broke, as if it physically hurt to say the words. “Around Ella. The kids. You were wired, Kip. Wired.”
“I didn’t fucking know!” My words sounded raw, hollow. “I would’ve ripped it off the second I?—”
“Enough!” Ella stepped between us, one palm on my chest, the other flat against Death’s. Her presence sliced through the tension like a blade.
Her forehead creased. “Death, stop. We’re all a pawn in the Pied Piper’s chess game. Each one of us is being used whether we’re aware of it or not.”
He didn’t move. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. His eyes never left mine. “I trusted you,” he said. “You were supposed to protect us.”
The words hit hard.
Ella pushed against him gently. “He still is.”
Death stared at me for a beat longer. He took a step back. Two.
Without another word, he turned and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him so hard the walls rattled.
The silence that followed was suffocating. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my overactive nerves.
Ella’s palm was still on my chest. She didn’t move it. “Give him time,” she said softly. “He’s not angry because he hates you. He’s angry because you matter.”
