Hollow Huntress (The Death Duet #1)

Chapter 1

MARA

“Careful of the Grim” was etched into the cold stone walls of the Halcyon City prison—a warning, threat, and reminder that we all die and share the same dark fate.

Regardless of the length of your life, the Grim will come for you.

The Grim will find you, and there is no escaping the icy touch of death.

Death is natural—it’s unavoidable—and just so happens to be my biggest fear.

I’ll do anything to evade its cold touch.

Anything.

Ihear the shackles rattle around me, the chains keeping me imprisoned—grounded and restrained—for something I did, but should’ve gotten away with.

I was stupid.

The loud clang of metal has transformed into a soothing melody over the past three hundred nights, and I find myself praying in the silence to hear their singing—reminding me that I’m not alone.

The darkness of my cell envelops me in a suffocating hug as I sit back against the wall with my knees pulled close.

Even though my bright blue eyes are wide open, I feel as if they’re sealed shut in the darkness—permanently closed from the exhaustion weighing on my shoulders and the shadows that surround me.

News travels quickly in this place. It’s not surprising, given we have nothing better to do with our time than rot away, hoping we escape. Each day, my past haunts me, my poor choices coursing through me like a lethal infection, while the anger from broken trust constantly surfaces.

The past always evokes feelings—feelings I’d rather not have, but the pain is preferable to numbness. What I feel most is an undeniable rage toward the Lyre Order for crossing me, but I’m trapped, always wondering if it is possible to break a blood oath and what it will cost me to do so.

I squint through the darkness and see shadowy figures moving through the halls, blocking our escape. The guards constantly watch us, pacing up and down the aisles day and night, ready to strike. But I can’t blame them.

Fear drives the guards’ anger, as most inmates here should never see freedom again.

Over time, I’ve recognized I have committed even worse crimes than some, with numerous murders behind me, leaving me feeling no different from those prisoners.

Madness has gradually taken hold in my spine, creeping closer to poisoning my twisted mind daily, and I am aware that my time is running out.

Very aware.

“Hey,” a guard’s gruff voice calls from the darkness on the other side of the bars.

I squint harder as he approaches. He isn’t speaking to me.

No one ever does.

“Did you hear me, bitch?” he barks again, and his face comes into view. He’s a familiar guard—one I’ve seen hundreds of times. He’s short and wide, and his attitude is almost as heinous as his face.

I prop against the back wall to get my bearings, my legs shaky as I finally stand and step forward.

My chains drag behind me like an extension of my body as I limp toward the bars that confine me.

The air around me is thick—filled with a musty stench and the decaying odor of prisoners left to fester with their own consequences.

Filth covers me, and I inhale deeply, my lungs crackling with each breath as I make my way toward the guard.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he hums.

I don’t press my face against the metal, and the guard leans in with a wide grin.

Before I can react, his hand shoots through the thin bars and wraps tightly around my neck.

What this man—Rocco, if I’m remembering correctly—doesn’t know is that with one turn, I could snap his arm in half, but I remain still.

That would require strength I can’t afford to use.

And honestly, I feel like playing his sick game of thinking he has me where he wants me.

“It seems our fun is coming to an end, Mara.” The man’s warm breath brushes against my face, causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust. “They’re breaking you out of here, love.”

They.

My stomach rolls.

The Lyre Order.

My… Order.

Curiosity strikes me, but I remain unfazed, gazing at this man as if I can see through him.

The guard’s grip tightens around my throat, and I feel my cheeks start to flush from the constriction of air.

He flexes his bicep, drawing me closer to his mouth.

I’ve heard of recent events from outside this prison regarding the Orders and the passing of a certain someone.

I think I know what they want, and though I don’t truly know the details, I know I will help them.

I don’t exactly have a choice, and at this moment, I don’t really care.

“What a pretty girl,” Rocco chuckles. “If only you weren’t covered in your own filth, I would lower my hand to touch something else.”

I roll my eyes. Idiotic human males, always thinking they can take things that aren’t theirs.

“You can try, Rocco,” I bite back, my voice cracking. “But I’ll fucking kill you before your disgusting fingers even get close.”

He pales slightly.

“Go ahead. I dare you.”

The guard hesitates and narrows his eyes. “You deserve to die in here with the other trash.”

“And I can’t wait for you to get what you deserve,” I respond.

Before he can continue his tiresome insults, I shoot my fist in the air and drive my elbow down on his forearm, breaking his connection to my throat.

His eyes widen when my opposite arm coils through the bars, and I wrap my dirty hand around the back of his neck.

It happens so fast, Rocco has no time to process what’s happened.

I use the momentum to slam his face into the bars, and a groan leaves his repulsive mouth.

His cheekbone rattles as it meets the metal, and I move my cracked, dry lips to the side of his face.

“Be careful how you speak to people.” I tighten my grip on his thick neck, my knuckles turning white. “Like you just said, I’m getting out of here, and you know who I work for. I hold grudges, Rocco,” I threaten. “And if I were you, I’d fear me. Especially right now.”

His eyes water as I slowly move my hand, letting him go, and exhaustion takes over. Rocco stumbles back, gasping for air, his hands instinctively clutching at his neck.

While the guard attempts to catch his breath, he mumbles, “You won’t do anything, you crazy bitch.”

I narrow my eyes and smirk. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Rocco.”

Terror clouds his face, and he quickly retreats into the darkness, calling out for help from a few others. I go back to my usual spot deep in my cell with a smug grin on my face. The stone wall brushes my back as I lower myself, curling my legs in tightly.

His shouts continue to echo down the hall, and I glance at my hand, still feeling his hot skin against it.

I clear my dry throat, flexing my hand and memorizing the shape of his thick neck.

My lungs burn with each breath, but I huff another insane laugh as I lower my head onto my knees, closing my eyes.

Mara… Mara Castten—a name I thought I forgot.

I was a top assassin until my world changed three hundred something days ago.

I was betrayed by someone I cared for—someone I thought I could trust—but now they need me.

It’s amusing how they’re crawling back when they're in trouble, especially after treating me as if I were easily disposable. Even though time seems to pass differently here, I know how long they allowed me to suffer. I heard the leader of the Ren Order’s wife has died, and he needs me.

I see death, feel death, and most days on the job, I am death.

They’re desperate.

The Lyre Order knows I’m wild enough to complete any task, and they’re right.

With my head still on my knees, I take another deep breath.

I hear more guards approaching my cell—either to punish me for my actions against Rocco or let me out of this place.

I would prefer the latter, but I doubt I will leave without a fight—the jail itself is desperate to keep me within its stone-gray walls.

Since joining the most notorious Order of Angel Assassins twelve years ago, I’ve taken enough lives to keep the Grim Reaper in business. I’ve avoided his icy touch thus far, and I pray to the Gods above and below that I can continue my lucky streak.

I raise my head when I hear someone nearby.

“Mara Castten,” calls a guard I vaguely recognize through my blurred stare, peering through the metal bars.

I let out an annoyed huff and stand up again, but this time, I stay at the back of the small, obscurely lit cell. I blink in his direction, and my dry eyes feel like sandpaper.

“You are going to need to come with me.”

I hear the keys jingle in his hands, and my heart starts to race.

The locks click open, and the heavy metal door creaks as he swings it open to the outside.

I can’t control my breathing, so I take a wider stance, lifting my fists and preparing to fight.

The guard steps into the cell and leans down, using the same key to unlock the chains around my ankles.

“Shaw Durante is here for you,” the guard says, standing far too close to me. “Time to go.”

I nod, unable to speak.

I was right.

Lowell needs me. He’s received an order from the High Elders, and they’re worried. The Order is calling me home, and weighing my options, I’d choose that fucked up place over this one any day.

If the news I heard is accurate, the Reaper has claimed an Elder’s wife—a violation of the very strict rules in place.

If I’m right, I know why they want me out.

I know what I’m being hired to do.

I’m being called back to the Order… to kill the Grim Reaper.