Page 17 of Fated to Monsters

“Noted.” Sydney crosses his arms. “Someone want to tell me what you’re doing here. The truth this time.”

And that's what I do. I tell him the truth. That our homeland was in a forever-long war, that demons and hunters would stop at nothing to rid each other from the realm. That up until I met these men, I was considered the most feared demon assassin of them all. That I was brainwashed into thinking they were the enemy when in reality, we were the evil plaguing our land, and I didn’t learn that until it was too late. But that we found a way out, that we rallied together to escape an inescapable prison, and we banded together to outrun those that wished us dead. Our enemies turned into allies, and we chose to blindly put faith in those around us because it was the only thing to do to stay alive.

“So you didn’t know Tremont long?” Sydney asks.

“He was my cellmate,” Wes tells him. “He told me he knew of a way out, not of the prison, but of our realm. I had no other choice than to believe him.” He draws in a breath and continues. “We’ve all made our fair share of mistakes, and the man I met in that prison cell showed genuine remorse.”

“Did he tell you what he did?”

“No, not really. He mentioned a past he was regretful of. That he lied, and stole, and let people down. I recall him saying he was a bully, and that he went through painful withdrawals in Prania but that when it was all said and done, he was glad because he realized that he was wrong for what he had done. He said he wanted to make amends but thought it was too late. I didn’t pry any of the details out, not when the most important thing on my mind was getting her out of here.” Wes grips my hand tighter and rubs his thumb along mine. “I would have formed an alliance with the devil himself if it meant saving her.”

“Are you going to keep tiptoeing around it or are you going to tell us what he did?” Bo folds his fingers into his palm and looks at his nails. He’s never really been one for patience.

But when Sydney opens his mouth to speak, he’s distracted by something else.

Dash, who was sitting on the edge of the chair being his sweet and opposite of Bo self, falls face first into the table, banging his head on the side and collapsing onto the floor.

“Angels.” I rush over to him and turn him over onto his back.

Blood pools from the open wound on his forehead, and his eyes remain shut. His body starts trembling uncontrollably.

“What’s wrong with him?” I say to anyone listening.

“Here.” Sydney gets to my side, a small pillow from the couch in his grasp. “Put this under his head.” He meets my gaze. “Has this ever happened before?”

“I…” But I haven’t been with Dash long enough to know if it has or not.

“No,” Wes chimes in. “Never.”

“What did you do?” Bo accuses. “Did you poison him?”

Sydney lets out a gruff breath. “I’m not as cruel as you think I am.” He presses his hand to Dash’s chest.

“What are you doing?” I grab at his wrist a bit too hard.

“I’m trying to see if I can figure out what’s wrong with him.” Sydney’s eyes flutter closed.

I hold my breath, hoping and waiting and praying to the Angels that Dash will be okay.

Because if he isn’t, I might just become the villain that Sydney suspects is in this room.

6

Dash

Darkness. Pain. Isolation.

A blast of light. A crack of a whip.

A woman yelling.

My hands dig into the dirt, and it consumes my fingers, shielding the smallest piece of me from harm.

I wish to sink deeper, go farther, until I am buried in the ground and surrounded by nothing but dirt to protect me.

Another slice across my back. Agony courses through me. Numbness. The scent of fresh blood pooling.

I tremble and will it to stop. Please stop.

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