“Get. Your. Fucking hands. Off her.”
His eyes bulge. Slowly, he lets go. Sadie pops up.
“Come over here. Get behind me.” I tighten my grip on this asshat’s neck.
Sadie blurs past the side of my vision and stands behind me. I tuck buzz cut under my arm and force him in front of me, hands still clenched around his neck.
Glancing up, I notice a crap ton of guards have their weapons trained at me.
“Let him go and get down on your belly,” someone calls out to me.
I grin. “That’s a no go.”
“You have ten seconds to comply.”
“I just want to take her to her room. Ease up.”
Movement from the floor catches my attention. I turn my head. An Enforcer is lifting the powder white grace from the floor. He trains a gun to her head.
“Now, Mr. Richards,” he says.
The girl’s eyes widen in fear.
“Let her go!” Sadie cries.
My muscles tense. I glance around, then nod at the guard. I let the buzz cut go. He swings around, gun trained at my forehead.
Sparks of red explode in my vision. I blink, then start to lower myself to the ground.
“Come here, Miss Evans,” the Enforcer that has the grace at gunpoint says.
Sadie glances down at me. I nod, and she inches toward them.
More red sparks float across my sight. Cool metal presses against my temple. I keep my head turned toward Sadie, Enforcer Ass, and the grace.
“This is what happens when you violate rules of conduct.” A glint of silver rips through the air. My heart almost seizes.
He slams the grace down on the table. Another guard comes and holds down her arm. The other one holds a sword to her flesh.
“No.” Sadie bursts into tears. “I won’t do it again.”
My teeth grind together. I start to push up. The red sparks come again.
No. Don’t move. You’re too weak. Stay.
Stay. Why do you kill everyone important? You think you can save her—
I pound my temples with fists, then dart my gaze around the room. My eyes zero in on Kiwi. I raise my eyebrows. Why is she attacking me?
Another flood of red grips my body. I inhale a sharp breath. Push back against her. When I open my eyes, it’s all in blue. I hear a loud smack and jerk my head to the side.
Sadie is running forward, holding the side of her face. The sword swings down toward the grace. Sadie grabs her, throws her to the floor.
I slam an elbow backward into the guard with a gun to my temple, then leap up. His gun explodes. Wind rushes past my ear. Grabbing the gun, I slam it up into his throat, pull it away, and smash it across the face.
I whirl back around. Guards block my view of Sadie. I rush forward.
“Cover your ears!” I pucker up and whistle, then slam my way through the circle of bodies.
I bend over, panting. A few things fight for my attention at once. Sadie is curled up next to the grace, who’s hands are over her ears. She is next to a growing puddle of blood. Juliet is inside the circle, frozen in place like the ice queen she is. Her vacant eyes stare at me.
I kneel beside Sadie. “You hurt?”
She’s bathed in sweat and trembling. Her lips can’t form words to tell me what they did to her.
The grace looks up, tears in her eyes. “It’s her arm. They took it.” She sniffles. “She just met me. Why would… I’m so sorry.”
My breath hitches in my chest. Sadie’s arm. They couldn’t have cut it off. No way.
The grace nods to the blood soaked bundle in her arms. My eyes shut; rage and other biting emotions swarm me.
I pick Sadie up. “You.” I nod at the nearest guard. “Call the infirmary. She needs to be looked at.”
He taps his wrist com and speaks something I can’t make out into it. Too many thoughts in my head, the main one being that I caused this. I fucked up.
Tripp rushes toward me and holds his hands out. “I’ll take her.”
I nod dumbly. The guard has to pry her cold, shaking body from my arms. The grace Sadie was protecting leaps up.
“I want to go with you. I might… I might be able to help.”
Tripp says something to her, nods at me, then they rush out of the cafeteria. I stand, glancing around for several moments. Finally, I clear my throat.
Pointing at all the descendants on the ground, I say, “You all, get off the floor. Go back to your rooms.”
People shuffle to their feet in intervals and stumble to the door. The ones that can move, that is. Everyone human is mine. Frozen in place by the siren song.
I spy Kiwi rushing toward me and glare down at her. She ignores me and snaps her fingers in front of Juliet.
“What the hell have you done?” Her tone is harsh.
I stare, then lick my lips. “If you don’t want her dead, I suggest you take her out of here now.”
Her eyes spark. With anger? No, frustration.
“You just fucked us,” she says, grabbing Juliet.
I shrug, following them with my gaze until they’re out, behind the double doors.
I start to spin in a small circle. Eyeing each of the guards. Nice, slow circles. I count twelve of them. Seemed like there were more. Doesn’t matter now.
I stop spinning and lean my head back. Then, I shove my power up, from the bottom of my throat, into my head. Once I see it, swirling like a black cyclone of raw fury, I stretch my mouth open wide.
My siren wail shoots into each of the Enforcers one by one. Their eyes swell out of sockets. Two by two, they pop. It makes a wet sound, like grapes exploding. Blood trickles out of those empty holes. Their skins ripple, pressed back onto their skills. Bits of brain and eyeball shoot all over the room, spatter the walls and stain the floor.
When the wail stops, there are no guards left, just a collage of their insides. I step through my artwork and trudge toward the doors. Before I can push them open, a gush of pain explodes at the back of my skull.
It takes my ability to see.
I crash to the floor.
I come to, handcuffed to a chair. With a grunt, I jerk against the restraints. Cuffs dig into my wrists. I clamp down on my bottom jaw. From the corner of the small, dark room, a throat clears.
Panting, I stop struggling and sweep my gaze toward the noise. Kiwi. She stands there, legs crossed at the ankle and arms over her chest, shaking her head.
“You’re an idiot.”
I smirk at her. “Get me the fuck out of these cuffs.”
She shakes her head. “Can’t do that, not until you tell me if there is any way to save Juliet.”
I stare.
After several moments of my not answering, Kiwi hisses at me. “You need to tell me. Now.”
“Or? You’ll attack me again? You’ll water board me?”
Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t attack on purpose.”
I scoff. “Right.” I jerk against the cuffs again. When I do, energy slices through my angry thoughts. A familiar one. I sniff. Then give Kiwi a huge, fake ass smile.
“Well, in that case. I’ll tell you what I can do for Juliet.”
Her head perks up.
Still smiling, I sense Juliet on the other side of the door. I imagine her standing, the picture of calm, waiting for results. Then, I see her banging her head into the steel-fucking door.
The boom makes Kiwi jump.
“Boom,” I whisper, seeing her do it again. The crack vibrates the door, and gives me a manic energy. I start to laugh.
“You hear that Juliet! That’s what I can fucking do for you!”
My head falls back, and I laugh louder.
There is a low click. My head explodes in agony, then there is more blackness.
When I come around the second time, I’m swimming in sweat. My head is slumped over my chest. Every breath I take is agony. My throat feels like it’s coated with slime. I try to gulp it down.
Something presses against either side of my face, lif
ting my head. Kiwi’s pitch eyes stare back at me. For the first time, she doesn’t give me a hateful glare. This time, she looks worried.
“Unless you give me something, I can’t help Sadie. She jumped in front of Axley and lost an arm. Now, Axley can salvage some of the arm, but only if I take them useful information.” She bites her plump lower lip.
For a good length of time, I just stare back.
At length, I clear my throat and ask, “You okay with that? Them using children like poker chips?”
Her eyes narrow. “You killed twelve men tonight. Are you really trying to climb a soapbox?”
I lean back, and her hands fall away. Feeling no need to justify my actions, I stare ahead. “There is a way,” I finally say. “Bring Juliet to me.”
Kiwi backs up a few inches. After sizing me up, she nods, then saunters to the door. It clicks, then opens, and she vanishes from the room.
I wait, slumped over in my chair like a limp dick. There is a numbness building up inside me. I can’t handle the slightest emotion now. Not after failing Sadie.
Again.
I have to figure out a way to do this. To admit that no matter what situation I’m in, I’ll always belong to someone. Free, my life is dependent on people hearing my song. In here, innocent children get mangled to force my obedience.
I have to get my shit together. I have to remember my place.
There is another light click. I don’t look up as the door creaks open. Footsteps thud toward me.
My hands bob up and down, as Kiwi unlocks my handcuffs. I pull my arms around to massage my wrists. Her movement flashes across the side of my vision.
“Explain.” Her voice is firm.
Slowly, I sit up straight and glance over at Juliet. She’s a blank slate. Her eyes are flat and dead. She’s waiting for me to fill her with something.
Not that. Something magical.
“The song of submission,” I say, my voice gnarled and husky.
“What is it?” Kiwi asks.
“The only way to keep her alive.” I glance over at her.
Her eyebrows lift. “I thought once anyone heard the siren song, they were cursed to die.”
I nod. “Most of the time.” My knees pop as I lift myself off the chair. “Depends on the siren.”
Kiwi sucks on her teeth. Her eyes dart between Juliet and me before deciding me.
“What do you have to do?”
I shrug. “A little magic.”
“Will she be hurt?”
Sighing, I scratch my eyebrow with my pinky nail. I almost ask her why she cares, but I don’t give a rat’s ass.
“No,” I say.
“Give me a minute.” She exits the room, leaving me to stare at Juliet.
I tilt my head to the side, scrutinizing her. I wonder how long Kiwi will be gone. My eyes flitter up to the bluish, swollen knot in the middle of her forehead. It makes me wonder if there is anything I can do to her that will make me feel better.
Will killing her make me feel better?
My eyes slide close.
Maybe we’re not so different, Juliet and I.
The door creeks open again, and I sigh relief. Brooding isn’t something I do well. I open my eyes and peer over at Kiwi.
She closes the door behind her gently, like it got fragile. Her eyes wander over to me, then she nods.
“They want you to do it.”
I clench my jaw and nod. Rubbing my hands together, I close the distance between Juliet and I. My fingers perch under her chin, I lift her face toward mine.
“What are you going to do? Make out?”
I shoot Kiwi a glare. She shrugs, backs into a corner, and waves me on.
I turn back to Juliet and start to take in deep, measured breaths. In and out. In and out. I repeat this ritual until my mind is blank. Until no stray thoughts try snake around my brain.
Blood pumping through my ears is all I hear. I use the focused calm to push myself up. To be outside of myself. When I get there, I see the room from all angles. I shove power out of my body.
The air ripples. Energy crashes into the walls. Juliet gasps loudly. I lift her up, outside of herself. The part of her that responded to my call. I lift her up with me, and wrap myself around her, tight.
Then, I tie the knot.
“You are…” I say I in a voice that doesn’t sound shit like me. It thunders like something not human.
“Being,” Juliet says, her eyes swirling with a deep blue spark.
“You are…”
“Becoming.”
“You are…”
“Passing away.” She breathes.
I pause for several seconds, then pull the power back into myself. And back into her.
“Into what?”
“Into your charge.” She bows her head. “I submit to you.”
The room goes still. I back away from her and nod over at Kiwi.
“Alright, it’s all good.”
She’s staring at me, wide eyed and out of breath. “What the hell was that?”
“You wanted her not to die. That’s what that was.”
Kiwi’s eyes narrow. “Why did she say… that she submits to you?”
I sigh, not really in the mood to explain this shit to her. It’s been a long day. I need sleep.
“I enslaved her. Long as we’re connected, she won’t die.” I let out an eye-watering yawn. “I need to see Sadie.”
“You… enslaved her?”
Fuck steak!
I sigh, and nod.
“She needs to be able to make her own decisions.”
I nod again and focus on Juliet. “Whatever you need to do to get this cure, I grant you free will to do it.”
She nods. “I need to go.”
I sweep my arm toward the door.
She turns and shuffles away. Kiwi grasps her at the elbow and turns toward me.
“Sadie will be okay. I can’t get you in to see her until tomorrow. Just…go back to the house.” She sounds tired. I’m with her.
After killing enough men to define a massacre and enslaving a psycho, I’m drained. Soon, I’ll need someone else. But for now, Sadie is safe. I force myself to focus on that. I try not to think of what punishment I’ll endure for enslaving Juliet. Not that I did it on purpose, she was just in the line of fire. I wonder if they even knew I could do it. It’s a gift, if you want to call it that, rare among sirens.
I shake my head.
At least she’s alive, which means we’ll be able to continue our mission, then maybe I can kill her. Slowly.
Shaking myself out of a stupor, I notice that I’m alone. A fact that shouldn’t surprise me because I saw Juliet and Kiwi leave.
I need rest.
I trudge to the door and lean against it for a while. Then, when I work up the energy, I leave the main grounds and head back for the house.
Hours later, I catch a second wind and can’t sleep. I almost go find Tripp for more monster dro, but that would disrupt whatever mental gear I’ve shifted to.
I seem to have reached some level of not giving a crap that feels important. It feels like survival, a concept that is becoming less and less likely by the minute.
So, I don’t get high and trip balls. Instead, I go down to the basement of the Fox house and hit the gym.
When most dudes get locked up, they come out more ripped than a mofo. My prison was a little different. I feel weak as hell. And I know I have to get my strength back.
My mind shelves all of the crap: the fact that I got Sadie’s arm hacked off, and the general fucked-up-edness that is my life. I shelve it at the back of my head.
Focusing on the burn in my muscles as I do bicep curls helps. Sweat drips down my face, stings my eyes. My pulse gallops. I set the weights down on either side of the bench. Then I lift up and settle face down onto the floor.
I start my first set of push-ups. After the first thirty, I go on autopilot. I have no idea what number I’m on when I feel the urge. I really need to kill someo
ne.
Not only do I need it, I want it. Another thing I want is to feel some level of guilt about that. I suck in a loud breath and lower myself down to the mat, then turn my head.
I listen to my heart sputter, let my eyes slide shut. Rolling over, I prepare for a few sets of crunches when a rush of movement passes through my vision. Hands behind my head, I turn left, toward the movement.
I freeze, blinking up at an unfamiliar female. She waggles her fingers at me. I raise an eyebrow.
“Pike Richards?” she asks.
I push myself up straight and nod. “Who are you?” I ask as I stand up and head to the weight bench. Grabbing the towel, I wipe sweat from my face as I turn back to her.
“My name is Valene. Your roommates said you’d be down here.” Her summery, hazel eyes take me in. “Juliet sent me.”
Draping the towel over my shoulder, I lift my gaze to the ceiling. I wonder if Juliet sensed my mood through our new bond, or if she just has good timing.
“What’s your last name?” I ask, sweeping my gaze back down to her face. Don’t want to make the same mistake twice.
Confusion flickers across her face. She plants her hand on her hip and purses her lips.
“Does it matter?”
I chuckle. “Are you being intentionally glib?”
She shrugs. I bend over to pick up a water bottle and take a swig as I lift back up. Her silence is a cue for me to explain myself.
“If you’re here for the reason I think you are, then yes.” I fold my arms.
She nods, bouncing her wavy, dull red hair over her shoulders. “Spencer.”
“How old are you?”
She huffs, then taps her foot. “What is this, a job interview?”
We stare at each other. She’s the first to break rank with a smile. Her cheeks redden, which is nice. Makes me hungry for strawberries.
But Valene will do.
“Okay, that was intentionally glib.” She rakes a hand back through her hair. “Twenty four. You?”
“Twenty-two.” I offer my hand to her. When she reaches to shake it, I lick my bottom lip. She’s warm. And soft.
And probably not just on her palms.
“Nice to meet you, Valene Spencer.”
She bites down on her thin, lower lip. “You always this polite?”
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