Page 78 of Madness Behind the Mask
“Strong,” she says. “Your dad strengthened them every day, and Caden has continued to do so since.”
My heart twists at the memory of my father’s last moments. He was so strong.
But Antonio was stronger.
Who will win between him and Caden?
My pulse pounding, I walk towards the door. The sense of power radiating off them pushes against my body. The wards have been activated, allowing only those of Shadow blood to pass through. And Katie. Caden must really trust her to have given her passage through the wards.
I glance over my shoulder at her, wonderingif she has the answers I seek, if she knows my husband better than me. “Can Caden kill Antonio?” I ask.
Bonnie and Molly suck in a breath.
“Yes,” Katie says firmly, but I can see the lie in her eyes. She’s worried for him.
Swallowing, I turn from her, my hands shaking as they remember the tearing of their flesh. The wetsquelchof tendons and musclesripping down a spike.
“All you know,”he seethed as he stalkedtowardsmeasI laysprawled out onmystomach,“is how to spread your legs and be the good little whore your father taught you to be.”
My throat burning with the contents of my stomach, I lunge for the open door and slam it shut. The wards don’t need it to be closed, but I do. I can’t face Antonio Garciaeven inside my mind. My request to speak to him was infantile and stupid.
I can barely think about that night without struggling to breathe. My chest feels like it’s caving in.
Falling against the door, I then collapse to my knees.
My breathing quickens, and I bite my tongue so I don’t scream. Instead, I whimper as I remember all that pain.The claw in my open chest. The cock choking me. The heavy hands holding me down as he shoved inside the hole he’d torn through my pussy.
Is he hurting Caden right now?
Or either of my two boys?
Is he torturing them? Making them suffer?
Tears burn my eyes as my head rests on the heavy oak door.
I should open it and run out there and let the monsters loose.
But my legs are trembling too much to listen.
And my breaths are coming too quickly.
And my body is screaming from phantom pain as I am thrown back into those woods.
Helpless.
Alone.
And terribly afraid.
TWENTY-Eight
ALERIC
14AUGUST1947
I phase onto theedge of theShadows’ street,just inside the weakenedprotectivewardsand those that hide us from the humans.Ablack gift-wrapped boxsitsin my hands, Sau’s name scrawledon it next toa white ribbon stained red.Hopefully, she actually lives long enough toopen itgiven how much death swirls in the air,its richcopperstench filling me with excitement.
Witcheslie on the ground likedroppedfast-foodbags,their severed heads and limbswaywardwrappers,their intestines a tumbled array of greasy fries. Wolves lie next to them, burned to a crisp, their heads cut off, their hearts ripped out of furry chests. It takes a lot to kill a werewolf, and the air hums with dark magic that reeks of sacrifice and blood offerings.
