Destruction’s Desire (Broken Souls Trilogy #2)

Chapter 2

Rule two: Always tie more knots.

T o my credit, I don’t run.

I don’t even breathe.

Sin – the dark and evil Destroyer that Leon and I are supposed to kill. The creature who might be released at any moment and end all the realms.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Of course I look.

My eyes dart to his neck, drawn by the magnetic pull of morbid curiosity.

Sin notices, and his smirk grows wider before more tattoos spiral across his skin, glowing a deep red.

I barely notice them.

My stare is locked on his neck, where there’s a noticeable gap. A gap that should be filled by the same energy collar I left on Leon.

Sin’s powers are free .

“Oh fuck,” I whisper.

Are there social etiquette rules for getting kidnapped by someone who you’re supposed to help murder? Sin said that if he wanted me dead, I would be. So, he doesn’t outright plan on killing me. But will he change his mind if he finds out I’m part of an active plot to kill him?

Let’s not find out.

I can’t just keep staring at him in horror. My resolve to not show fear is a distant wish.

Say something, Vivian!

“You’re not collared.”

Why am I like this?

My social skills have not improved in the last few days.

At my words, the warlord-wannabe narrows his eyes, giving me every indication that he is very offended by my remark.

“Obviously,” he responds dryly.

My cheeks heat, and I try to explain my reasoning, hoping Sin doesn’t get destructive when he’s annoyed. “It’s just – they said you’d blow up the universe if you were uncollared.”

I figured Magnus was lying when he said Morgana released Sin millennia ago. After all, everyone is convinced Sin will destroy realms if he’s free. Unless… did Sin just get released? Did he kidnap me so he could have an audience while he blows up realms? Oh god, was I too stubborn in not releasing Leon?

This is it. I knew I shouldn’t be entrusted with the fate of humanity. We’re all screwed because I have control issues .

Sin lets out a blistering sigh. It’s almost as if he can see the gears in my head spiraling. “Mortal, I have been uncollared for a very long time. If I was going to destroy the realms, I already would have. So, you can stop looking like you are responsible for the death of the universe.”

I like to think of myself as someone who is difficult to read. Mysterious, if you will.

Clearly, I am delusional.

Mulling over his words, I can’t help but remember that I’ve had those exact thoughts before they were wiped out by the brain fog.

Yet again, I recognize that something isn’t adding up. Why would the Council want to kill Sin now if he’s had the potential to blow up the universe for ages?

As the thoughts cross my mind, I wince, waiting for the searing pain and brain fog that is sure to follow my anti-Council thoughts. But nothing happens.

No pain. No fog.

My eyes widen, and a forbidden emotion starts to surface. Hope is dangerous, and a small seed of it lodges itself within the cloud of despair that still hovers around me.

Sin still watches me closely, like he’s working to decode my every expression.

“You mentioned the bond’s influence doesn’t work across realms?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“The bonds are powerful, but not strong enough to pass through realms. Morgana’s realm is well protected. Leon won’t find you here,” he says cruelly, as if I’m being punished by being separated from Leon .

My knees go weak, and I sink to the floor. It’s probably a stupid thing to do in front of your kidnapper, but the relief that hits me is absolute.

The bond can’t reach me here.

Leon can’t reach me here.

I try to take calming breaths so I don’t start to sob. After three good inhales, I finally glance up. Sin looks utterly disgusted with me.

I don’t have the energy to care.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Have I traded one nightmare for another?

Probably. But at least no one is touching me on this side of my waking terror.

At my gratitude, Sin glances at my bandaged arm, and his disgust morphs into unadulterated rage. His tattoos flare once before he shutters the expression.

Maybe he suffers from mood swings. I can recommend some guided meditation videos for that.

Minutes go by in silence. Sin slowly starts to look uncomfortable as he realizes I’m not getting back up. The tears threatening to spill from my eyes are probably not making this less awkward for him.

I make a mental note that emotions make my kidnapper uncomfortable.

Do we have that in common?

Yes.

Do I plan on storing that information away for later use?

Absolutely.

I might be a trainwreck, but if I’m going down, I’m dragging everyone responsible for the last week of my life with me .

Sin clears his throat before heading towards the door. “You should get more rest. Your body is weak and still hasn’t recovered from the realm jump.”

The red glow in his tattoos has completely faded, leaving only black swirling ink.

I don’t move from the floor or even bother responding. I think not having an uncollared Destroyer in my room bodes a bit better for my survival. Not much, but a bit.

Sin pauses at my door to look back at me. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but shakes his head and closes the door behind him.

His footsteps echo down the hall, but I stay rooted to the floor, still not trusting my legs.

I’m free of the bond’s influence.

I’m free of Leon.

A tear finally slides down my cheek, and I hug my knees tightly – as if the action will help me to hold myself together.

The room is silent, and without any distractions, the twisted parts of my emotions grow louder. It’s horrible for me to feel so relieved at being separated from Leon. The man is literally my destiny and loves me more than anyone ever has. More than I’ve ever deserved.

I knew I was broken.

So broken that I can’t accept whatever version of love he has for me. So broken that I can’t find it in me to trust him with his own power. So broken that I can’t adapt to his culture.

The last thought has me swallowing a lump in my throat. There is so much wrong with what I saw in the Otherworld. Souls pushed into slavery, Leon wanting me to be subservient to him.

I couldn’t do it.

I still can’t do it. And given Leon’s violent outburst at my pushback… My body shudders.

I don’t think I’m safe with Leon. He will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.

But if Leon can’t enter the Shadow Realm, then maybe I have more options than I’d initially thought.

Zero. That’s how many options I had before.

But now, my luck might be changing from completely non-existent to only morbidly abysmal.

I can work with that.

I think back to my brief visit to the Otherworld. I saw very little of the realm, but what I did see hinted that it was vast. I know my own realm is huge, too. A girl could get lost in a place like that. And with no bond to tie me back to anyone here, maybe this is the opportunity I’ve been looking for.

But if I’m going to take this chance, I can’t hide away in this room, waiting to see what the enemy will do to me.

Sin didn’t explain why he kidnapped me.

My heart drops as I connect the dots. He’s probably just holding on to me to make a trade with Leon.

I’m not going to stick around to be a bargaining chip.

Uncurling from my pity ball, I pace over to the window. It’s still daytime, and ironically, it’s a bright and sunny day. Who would have thought a place called the Shadow Realm would get sunshine? A brochure would have been nice .

Unlike the Council’s castle, there’s no city wrapped around Morgana’s place. At least not on the side that my room is facing. Instead, green hills extend out from the castle walls until they meet a massive forest. The forest stretches over the horizon.

That could work.

Looking down, a quick count of windows reveals I’m on the third story. It’s too high to jump but not too high to get creative.

I test the latch, and the window swings open without issue. Turning, my pulse starts to pick up. I might be a sorry excuse for a ghost whisperer and thief, but maybe I can cut it as a prison breaker.

I might not have any real-world experience with most situations, but I’ve read enough books to have mad survival skills.

At least, in theory I do. Whether those skills translate into real life will be another matter entirely.

My focus lands on the pile of blankets on my bed. I’m going to assume that fabricating a rope out of bed sheets is cliché for a reason. The sheets are a soft cotton, but they must be high quality because my measly muscles can’t tear them.

Bummer.

Rolling my lips between my teeth, I look around the room for something sharp. Sin was probably smart enough to remove all the knives and scissors in the room before I woke up. But if he didn’t think to put bars on my window, then he’s underestimated me.

Big mistake on his part.

My eyes lock on the still-open bathroom door, and a grin breaks across my face. Mirrors can be sharp .

Pulling the pillowcase off the bed, I wrap it around my hand as I dart back to the bathroom. I almost snort when I remember that breaking a mirror is supposed to give you seven years of bad luck. Considering my shitty past and most recent break from normality, I don’t think anything I do will change my relationship with lady luck.

I’m already on her bad side.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I punch the mirror. After a sickening crunch, I peek, only to see it’s the mirror that cracked and not my fist. My hand aches, and I flex it a few times. I don’t have any broken bones, but that hit is probably going to leave me with another wicked bruise.

Yet again, I hold my breath, waiting to see if someone will barge into the room and catch me. For all I know, the only reason Sin walked away from my room was because he had a guard stationed outside of it.

Nothing happens.

Bingo.

Gingerly picking out the largest mirror shard, I get to work. I think movies may have downplayed the effort that goes into making ropes from blankets. The seconds stretch into what feels like hours as I tug the mirror shard through the sheets. With every ripping sound, my eyes dart back to the door, waiting to be caught red-handed. And I mean literally red-handed. I should not be trusted with sharp objects. Blood coats my hands from the dozens of cuts I’ve managed to give myself.

Finally, my blood, sweat and tears are rewarded when I hold up a braided rope. I’m not sure it’s strong enough to hold me, but I’m ready to risk it .

The only person I can trust is myself. Beyond my glaring issues with Leon, I have no faith in the Council or the person who voluntold me to be Leon’s Keeper.

I’m positive Need deceived me on purpose. She made it sound as though Sin and Morgana had only just escaped when she roped me into her supernatural affairs. And no part of me has forgotten what Leon told me about Sin’s powers. Sin specializes in mind control.

I refuse to have my free will influenced again.

With my rope ready, I move to the end of the bed but pause when I glance at the chest. I probably should have checked it before I made my rope. Maybe the chest will have something warmer to wear or shoes. Shoes would be great.

As I open it, the hinges make a loud squeak, and I cringe at the sound. If someone is guarding my door, there’s no way they didn’t hear that. But again, nothing happens. Exhaling, I look inside.

The chest’s contents confirm my suspicions that Sin didn’t leave any weapons for me to find. It’s mostly full of empty journals, and to my delight, there’s also a warm cloak. My chances of freezing to death just got marginally smaller.

Grabbing the cloak, I also think to shove one of the journals into a pocket, so I can use the pages to start a fire. How I’ll make fire is a mystery, but I am focusing on one problem at a time.

With my new supplies tucked away, I get to work on tying off my rope to the foot of my four-poster bed. Hopefully, the bed is heavy enough that it won’t drag across the floor once it’s supporting my weight.

Is knotting the rope four times considered overkill ?

Or would it be underkill? As in, many knots reduce my chances of falling to my death.

I giggle under my breath, even though I know the joke is lame. But I need the humor to avoid thinking about how stupid my next move is.

Satisfied with my knots, I decide not to dwell on silly things like the odds of breaking my neck.

Peeking out the window, I’m relieved that the castle grounds are still devoid of all signs of life. For a castle, this place is weirdly deserted. The Council’s castle had people all around it.

I’m getting the sneaking suspicion that Sin and Morgana don’t have any friends.

That checks out. I’m guessing being evil villains probably doesn’t mesh well with sending out holiday cards.

I toss the rest of the rope out the window. It doesn’t quite reach the ground, but it looks like I’ll only be falling about eight feet instead of neck-breaking height. I throw the cloak down next. It billows down before landing in a heap.

My stomach twists at the sight.

I really hope the rope holds.

The window ledge is wide, and I gingerly lay across it, lowering my legs over the edge. I hold on to the rope for dear life.

Thankfully, the bed doesn’t budge, despite my added weight.

That’s promising.

I start to shimmy over the ledge. The cuts on my hands sting as they rub against the fabric. But rather than focusing on the pain, I keep my eyes trained on the rope, admiring my blanket braiding craftsmanship.

My climbing efforts are about as graceful as my attempt at stealing a surfboard. Painful for me and riddled with second-hand embarrassment for anyone who might be watching.

But considering I haven’t broken my neck yet, I think I’m nailing this.

Another breath, and I’m fully off the ledge.

My entire life is suspended midair. The wind blows my body around, and I take this moment to feel grateful that I’m claustrophobic and not afraid of heights.

The blanket rope is holding, and before my arms can tire out, I plant my feet against the stone wall and start to climb down. It takes no time for my muscles to burn, but I push through the pain and keep climbing.

I’m making good progress when, suddenly, the rope goes slightly more slack, and I drop a few inches.

It takes every ounce of my self-control not to scream. There must be a knot coming undone.

It’s times like this when I really wish I had taken the initiative to join Girl Scouts as a child. I’m guessing normal knots might not be recommended for death-defying climbs.

Hustling now, I keep moving down the rope as fast as my sore body will allow me.

This probably counts as another adrenaline-inducing activity.

I’m really counting on it not being another near-death or full-death experience.

Sweat is starting to drip down my forehead into my eyes. It’s warm, like an early summer day back home on the coast. There’s a mugginess and humidity in the air that is starting to feel stifling.

My hands are cramping.

I don’t dare look down and keep climbing, willing my knots to hold just a little longer.

The knots do not, in fact, hold.

I’m just about to give myself another mental pep talk when the rope goes fully slack.

I fall.