27. TWENTY-SEVEN #2
My stomach knots, wondering how long I can endure the methods Mother Superior will undoubtedly insist on to unearth the truth, if she had any doubt. My lie will need to be unwavering.
Luckily, I still have days to perfect my story.
“Will they hurt you?” Dante asks, his steps coming to an abrupt halt.
I start to answer—pain is such a common tool, I scarcely think twice about it. But my words catch in my throat when I see the cold, lethal look on his face, his jaw clenched hard—like he’s already imagining ripping the arms off any slayer who would lay a hand on me.
Warmth blossoms in my chest. He’s protective of me?
I offer him a pacifying smile. “Nothing I can’t handle, unless they find out about our other activities. And yet—”
I taper off sharply. I can’t bring myself to finish, my gaze averting.
Dante’s brow knits. “What is it?”
My mouth grows dry, stabs of guilt panging me over and over.
Traitor, traitor, traitor—
“The abbey, it… It doesn’t call to me like home anymore.
Not how it should,” I confess. I trace the Corvus emblem seared into my leather belt.
“We’re raised to eliminate darkness in the world—not innocents.
If I rise in the ranks and prove myself, will I be tasked with killing some other poor girl’s family so her aim is sharpened? ”
I think of the paper butterfly that my parents had kept all those years after I’d been inducted. That love had been stolen from me—forever. Could I bear to do this to another?
My glorious portrait in the Corvus Order halls would be painted with blood that never deserved to be spilt.
Hot tears blur my vision, and I turn my face away, swiping my eyes on my sleeve. But there’s no hiding the thick choke of my voice.
“I’m so lost,” I shudder out.
There’s a soft hitch of his breath, and a long moment passes before I feel him take a shuffling step toward me. His hand brushes mine at my side. The contact is feather-light at first, but as our fingers tangle, his grip solidifies into a firm squeeze.
“Don’t go,” Dante breathes.
He’s gazing at me with a quiet desperation that steals air from my lungs—arrogant smirk and teasing laughter nowhere to be seen. His walls are as ground-down as mine are. He almost looks scared.
I step back sharply like he’s slapped me, wrenching my hand from the tantalizing security of his strong grasp. “No, I–I must.”
“Why?” he presses. “What’s left for you there?”
“My doubt doesn’t matter. It can’t. I swore an oath, I have a duty—”
“Oh, fuck duty! What do you want?”
My lower lip trembles. I can see what he’s asking without words, and I can’t think, can’t breathe around the thought. I’m not sure I want to return to the abbey. But this…
With trembling hands, I twist the fede ring off my first finger and toss it to him. It clatters near his feet. I should have gotten rid of it days ago.
“This—whatever this is—it can’t go any further. What’s the point, Dante?” I ask, not meaning for the bite around the words. “To go with you? I can think of a dozen reasons why that’s a bad idea.”
Dante takes a step closer, reclaiming lost space between us. He fills my vision, my body buzzing at the places we’re almost touching. My heels waver at the edge of the walkway that cuts down to the stream—I can’t back away any further.
“Would you care to hear my reasons?” he asks.
I all but gape at him, my breathing shallow and quick. To be used or lusted after, even manipulated, I could accept. But the way Dante is looking at me right now is none of those.
“There’s no future here!” I hiss at him, shoving his chest—a movement he barely seems to register. My voice is wavering again—because suddenly, I wonder if he’s been picturing us walking together in the sunlight as two mortals, too. The very idea makes my chest feel like it’s caving in on itself.
“I don’t care.” Dante cradles my face in both hands, putting that pleading, fallen-angel gaze close to mine.
“We’ll go our separate ways,” I insist, like I don’t hear him. “I’ll carry on, doing the only damn thing I’m good at. And you… You’ll forget about me, find dozens of others to take my place.”
“A century, stellina. A hundred fucking years, and I’ve never found anyone like you. I doubt I’d be lucky enough to find your equal, even if I last another thousand.”
A tear slips down my cheek. I am wanted. I’m desired—even with my scars, my violence. Dante’s eyes rove my face, half-lidded and searing with tenderness. They linger on my lips, and his thumbs brush my cheeks before he slowly leans in.
“We should stop this,” I rasp. “Before we…”
His lips mesh gently with mine, and I don’t have the strength to resist. I don’t want to. Entangling with him—with this monster I’ve been tasked to destroy—is feeling more like a home with every passing hour.
Fuck the Order. Fuck duty. Maybe I wasn't destined to be a warrior, but a lover. Maybe we can build a future entirely new, something just for us.
I lift on my tiptoes, gripping the collar of his drenched tunic as I offer my answer with every renewed touch.
A soft scuff echoes, distorted by the passage. It’s faint, but it spikes fear through my body at once. It’s a footstep.
We are not alone.
“I knew you fucked your way through the lessers, but this is hard to watch, even for me.” The voice is female—cool and distinguished, entirely out of place in this decrepit tunnel.
We rip apart, and I nearly stagger into the stream as I whirl toward the encroacher. A lithe woman is standing in a narrow fork in the passage, some thirty feet ahead of us.