Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
A rule has been violated, and blood will be wanted.
War breaks the silence when he moves to the body closest to him, bending down and tearing off the ski mask. He flips him onto his back and lifts his shirt, as if searching for something. Probably ink, or anything that can identify who they are.
“Where’s Eloise?” I whisper, and just like that, Wars stops.
Everyone. Stops.
War
My eyes bounce between Halen and Eloise. Not everyone is out here. Eli, Kyrin, Luna, and Lilith are inside with Scarlet. Hector is seated on a stray pot plant, staying close enough to Halen, and for whatever reason, that makes me queasy.
“This about the curse?” I leave a bitter sound around each syllable.
“Curse?” Saint’s voice is careful, as her eyes take a moment to land on Vaden, Priest, and me. “Halen, are you talking about Laena Daraetha Tayir?”
Halen doesn’t answer. We’re not at all surprised. Bet she’s fucking shitting herself.
Saint continues, her fingers tucking her colorless hair behind her ear. “Laena Daraetha Tayir translates to The Curse of the Darkest One. Spoken in the language Laheamayac, which originated from one of the first settlers of witches back in the days of the Messiah, it’s said that during one of the many generations of Kings, a witch put a hex on Riverside for all the wrongdoings the Founding Fathers did. The curse itself is complicated, sure, but so is the way you obtain it.” Saint pauses. I think she’s giving Halen time to process, but it doesn’t work.
Halen doesn’t move, and every warning sign in my body starts going off. Why isn’t she saying shit?
“The curse is true,” Hector interferes from his spot. “The last generation it came for was the one before my father’s. They were, at the time, the worst reign we have had.” He swallows and the tattoos on his neck swell. “Until, I’m thinking, this one.”
The wind bites at the loose strands of Halen’s hair, and before anyone can say anything else, Hector whispers, “Princess?”
Halen
My tongue clings to my upper mouth. No. I can’t. I can’t do it.
I rush toward the back patio, passing the pool house before anyone can stop me. After closing the glass door, I turn to find Katsia sitting on the single sofa in the family room, her leg crossed over the other. That’s not what shocks me, though. I mean, having her in my house, yeah, but it isn’t that.
“I know you want to run.” The purr of her assumption grates on my nerves, as her arms visibly tighten around the baby she’s cradling in her arms.
A baby? From where? The only person I know who has a small baby lives all the way on the other side of the world.
She moves the blanket away from its face as if moving the curtain from my eyes.
“Whose baby did you steal?”
“I know you want to run,” she repeats, her tone harder this time.
“You don’t know shit,” I snap back, even though I know that it’s not true. I don’t know what I want.
“You and I both know that isn’t true.” She hums a melody against the covered head of the small child as it jerks awake. “Halen. You can’t run.”
“Whose baby is that, Katsia?”
Her eyes swing up to my face, and I swear the seconds feel like minutes as she holds my stare. Acid rolls up my throat and my whole world flips on its ass. She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. I hear her loud and fucking clear.
I fly up the stairs and up to my bedroom, with nothing but the footsteps of my heart palpitations trailing behind.
I settled into Dad’s office chair and plugged in the USB. Shit. What the fuck could this be and why did he think I’d care? I’d met all of Dad’s friends, and they were more like family, except Mr. Paige, Evie’s dad. He and my dad were tight. They played golf together—weird! Dad never plays golf!
The file pops up on the screen and my finger hovers over the play button.
Shoving through the bathroom, I turn on the tap and collect cold water into my palms, splashing the puddle against my face to swipe away my tears.
Dabbing my wet face with a towel, I stare back at myself in the mirror, my fingers dancing across my cheeks.
Even if they knew. Even if Pop was right and it was time. Would I ever be enough? And I don’t just mean to the EKC, or to even Dad.
She had a baby with him? They had a baby together? Is that why they are the way they are? Why the only person who has ever pissed me off when it came to War was her?
I’ll never be enough. I’ll never be trusted.
Fear grips me around the throat and before I can think twice, I swipe up my phone from the bench and rush to my closet. Three minutes, and a flurry of stray clothes flying over my shoulder later, my suitcase is packed.