Page 131 of Live To Tell

VIOLET

“What have you done?” I ask sharply and push past Viktor. “Where is he? Leif!” No response. I dart towards the steps. The door at the bottom is now closed. “And Rowan. Where's he?”

“Helping Leif.”

“With what?” I snap.

Does this stupid witch not realize that with each moment the side that can hurt him crawls from the pit of my soul? Evidently not, since he’s now standing between me and the exit.

“I’m aware you’re drilling into my mind,” I whisper, as pain focuses between my eyes. “But the other Violet won't be influenced because she won't listen to anybody.”

“Oh, yes. Do invite her.”

“Move,” I snarl.

He leans forward. “No.”

I keep my face close to his, disgusted by his dank magic touching me, but refusing to move. “That's right. You don't like girls who refuse to do what you say. Did you keep Madison here too?”

“Are you expecting a confession?” he whispers.

Play for time. Stay calm. The guys will be here soon. “I don't need one. I've evidence against you for the murder of Madison Riverborn. I'm positive if I break through the tiara's spell, we'll see exactly who you are and what you did, Viktor.”

“Two problems, Violet,” he whispers. “One, you'll struggle to find any records because Viktor Whitegrove never existed. You’ll find Joe Smith's history from birth onwards, which will back up my story and blow apart yours. And two, you won't try because you'll be in custody.”

My mind clouds as I swing between allowing the hybrid out to attack this man or staying reasoned until the others arrive.

I can’t kill him, but an injury or two would work.

Heavier feet climb the steps and as Leif's broad figure emerges, he lurches straight for Viktor. Without looking around, Viktor holds up a hand, palm outwards and Leif's head snaps back as if the man punched him.

“Good. You're here.” He spins around to face Leif, who's holding his head with both hands, face pained. “Kill the threat to your friends.”

“Violet,” he says through gritted teeth and makes to grab Viktor again, but instead falls backwards, landing heavily on the broken floor.

A handful of times, Rowan spiked magic into my mind in retaliation or to shut me up, leaving me pissed that he had the strength to do so. The magic Viktor throws at me now is like a dagger through the temples and I'm temporarily blinded, suppressing a yell of pain.

Hybrid. Bring the hybrid.

White dots dance across a world harder to see and I stumble again as the knife-pain twists deeper.

“What are you doing?” snarls Leif.

“Kill the thing on the bed,” he commands.

“I'm not your fucking puppet.” Through the cloudy world, I see Leif throw himself at Viktor, but he stops short, arms by his side instead of raised against him.

“No, but human and shifter minds are ridiculously easy to corrupt.” He grabs immobile Leif's hair and yanks his head back. “You should thank me. I allowed you to walk away alive that night, but you'll do what I tell you.” He tugs his head further back. “I'm in your mind, Leif. I’ve known exactly where you are every moment since that night. Including tonight.”

Leif's mouth moves but he can't speak, and the dizziness from the stabbing in my head fades away, the dark anger moving from the heart of me into every cell. “You bastard,” I growl.

I'm nauseous as I look at how the average sized, middle-aged witch can hold Leif in check with his mind—that he can stand there with just a hold on Leif's hair to control him.

The hybrid rises and bays for violence, focusing on the threat before her.

“The two original suspects found with their latest victim. Trent lacerated and a rune left on the body.” Viktor smirks. “I honestly should've stepped forward before, you make things too easy, Ms. Blackwood.”

“Not. Happening,” I snarl, lips pulling back as the serrated hemia teeth pull at my mouth.

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