Chapter 20 #3
Crew spins to face me, and his expression is stony, unable to ignore the command from his Elder. I step forward, quickly removing the knife from my thigh, should he bound toward me before I can. I don’t speak because my anger has matured beyond words.
“Do you want to get this out of your system?” Crew asks in a whisper. “Then will you let me talk?”
The Elders watch in silence, waiting for a show, and everything in my system screams at me to race forward, but something stops me. I don’t want to give Lowell what he wants. I hate Crew, but I think I hate Lowell more, and I don’t want to fight him.
“Now,” Lowell screams.
I grind my teeth against the pull of the blood oath and look at the cold ground.
“I said now,” Lowell insists again. “Fight him.”
Unable to resist his orders, I lunge forward, catching Crew off guard.
He spins, but I’m faster, and I pin him against the tall concrete wall.
The tip of my blade presses into his neck, and I pause.
Rage flows through me like a drug, and I’m near the point of no return.
Lowell’s orders flash in my mind, and I try to fight against them.
Over the years, my success as an assassin has been fueled by my uncontrolled anger, and as I sit here with my blade pressed against his olive-inked skin, I can feel it surging, seconds away from consuming me.
“Don’t do it,” Crew whispers. “Don’t let Lowell control you.”
“I can’t.” I grit my teeth in his face. “You deserve the pain you caused my father.”
His brows tighten. “You have it all wrong. I didn’t touch him…”
“Liar,” I seethe.
“Don’t. Listen. To. Lowell.” Crew’s face tenses. “Please, Mara.”
I dig the knife into his skin further, and I smell the sweet, metallic scent of blood as it slowly runs down his neck, painting the large butterfly red. He grits his teeth from the sharp pain, but I don’t stop.
“You killed my dad, and I’ve wanted my payback since that night. I’ve wanted your blood for a long time.”
“That can be arranged,” he mutters.
I quickly look to his neck, and notice that his blood is no longer red, but instead a deep black oozes out thicker than oil—even his veins appear darker under his skin, and I can’t help but study them for a moment.
What the fuck?
Before I have time to speak again, Crew lunges forward, catching me off guard, and I drop the knife with a clang.
He pushes me backward, tripping me with his foot, and my back slams against the concrete floor, with my mask flying off my face.
A scream leaves my lips, and I can’t help the tears welling in my eyes.
He lies on top of me, pinning my arms down, and his eyes are wild—like during his earlier outburst—carrying something unholy inside him.
Crew tilts his head, causing a bit of the black blood from his neck to spill into my mouth like dark tar.
I gag and spit to the side, feeling the warm, thick liquid snake down my throat.
Against my will, I swallow, and a tingle travels through my entire body. His black blood tastes of poison—nightshades—and panic begins to swirl within me as I feel it sting going down. The pain in my back makes my heart race, and I thrash against his weight atop me.
I hear Carver and Lowell talking amongst themselves, but the ringing in my ears drowns out their words.
Crew’s black eyes stare into mine, and I watch as the cut begins to seal shut on his neck, stopping the flow of the dark blood from dripping into my mouth.
I stretch my fingertips out beside me and feel the familiar handle of my knife on the ground.
With Crew distracted, I work to pull the knife toward me, and with every second that passes, I know my time is running out. I watch as he becomes lost in the moment, letting only fury drive his right mind. I might not be the only one with anger issues here.
I spit again, but this time I do so directly in Crew’s face. My saliva is stained black from his blood, which forces another gag to come forward. It peppers his face, and my eyes widen as Crew licks the spit from his lips and smiles.
“Do it again,” he growls. “You taste irresistible.”
Oh, my God. He’s insane.
I reach for the knife again and gasp as Crew’s hand wraps around my neck, squeezing tightly.
My mind goes back to the night I shot him and the anger that radiated from him.
He isn’t in control. I feel the numbness of oxygen deprivation slowly creeping into my limbs, and I know if I don’t hurry, I’ll black out.
Even as I focus, I stare into his eyes, and the rage I see both interests and frightens me.
Anger is akin to a drug. It embeds itself like a deep infection you desperately want to rid yourself of, yet you keep seeking more.
His grip tightens, and I gasp for the air he won’t allow to enter my lungs. His black eyes bore into mine, and a voice I don’t recognize booms from his mouth.
“I didn’t fucking kill your father, and if we had time, I would explain, but I think you would rather die than hear my voice.”
His dark voice sounds ancient, and I watch as his wings spread across his back like death itself. I realize that Crew’s anger has released the actual demon within.
“Stop it,” I gasp for air. “Please.”
“If you continue to hurt me, I’ll actually add a Castten to my list.”
Fear floods through me as my hand wraps around the knife's handle.
“Stop.” I fight to get the word out.
“Or what?” Crew’s lips move closer to mine. “You can’t get away now, little angel.”
I lift my arm, my back screaming in pain, and drive the knife into Crew’s side.
A hellish scream escapes his throat as he rises off my body while I cover my ears with my hands, dropping the knife.
He rips his mask off and clutches his side in pain.
I quickly stand, backpedaling to the concrete wall, and gasp for air.
Lowell and Carver watch in awe, as if this is some sick form of entertainment.
“She’s magnificent,” I hear Carver whisper to Lowell.
Lowell responds. “She listens well.”
The dark taste of Crew’s blood lingers in my mouth, and I lean forward, attempting to grab the knife at my feet, but the pain is too much for me to bend down.
I glance at the blade and see the black blood coating where I just drove it into Crew.
Before my eyes, I watch as the blood begins to sizzle on the blade and vanishes into thin air.
He’s going to fucking kill me.
I wipe my mouth, the remnants of the blood still lingering, and spit on the ground again, disgusted.
Crew doubles over, and I slowly lift my gaze to see his hand rapidly become soaked with bright red blood as his eyes return to their normal bright metallic glow.
I swear his blood was just black. I watched it leak into my mouth.
Realization hits me at Crew’s last words, and I replay them in my mind.
He didn’t kill my dad.
Then what did I see that night?
“Do you feel better, Mara?” Carver asks as he walks near Crew. “Can we move forward now?”
I remain still, simply staring as Crew’s breaths quickly fill the silence with an agonizing struggle, because no, I don’t feel better. I feel dirty—stained—and a new emotion washes over me. One I don’t usually experience after hurting someone.
“Although we may have made Crew angrier, don’t you think?” He laughs wildly at Lowell.
Carver slaps his hand around Crew’s shoulder, and at first, I think he’s going to check on him. However, that thought quickly changes when Carver swiftly punches him in the side, right where I just drove my knife. Crew coughs and falls to his knees with a guttural groan.
Carver leans down and whispers, “Never disrespect an Elder in front of me again.”
Crew coughs, spitting blood onto the concrete, doubling over with his hands clutched to his side. The wound will heal, but it’s the wounds you don’t see sometimes that leave their marks.
“Mara, you two should be ready to leave for your next assignment in the morning,” Carver says. “Good job standing up for yourself. My offer still stands. Find me later if you’d like.”
Lowell winks at me in approval before the double doors swing open, and the Elders step back into the crowded room.
My eyes slowly pan from Carver and Lowell to Damien, who rushes to help Crew stand. I look at Crew, and his face is contorted in pain. The emotion that swirls through me like a violent storm is regret. It swells in my chest because I know exactly what just happened.
Lowell knew I would lose my cool. He knew I would hurt Crew, and he wanted me to. He wanted me to hurt Crew for how he had spoken about Lowell just moments before. Crew stood up for me, and in turn, I stabbed him. Lowell set me up, and even though it felt good in the moment, all I feel now is pity.
For Crew.
For the first time, I realize I might not hate Crew.
But I know I fucking hate myself.
I curl my fists tightly and watch where Lowell just stood. He’s manipulated me again, and I feel like an idiot. I step toward Crew and Damien.
“Crew,” I whisper, and stretch out my hand to assist him. “I shouldn’t…”
Damien raises his hand to signal me not to come closer, and I pause.
“Give him a minute,” Damien instructs, and I step back. “Let him calm down.”
Crew slowly stands up, and with his mask removed, I can see his entire face.
His silver eyes haven’t softened, but pain flickers in them like burning candlelight.
As the wound heals gradually, he stands taller.
However, he’ll be sore for a while. At this rate, I’ll likely kill him before we finish this assignment.
But now he knows why I’ve been so angry, and I could punch myself for saying anything this soon.
I remain frozen in place, watching as his strength slowly returns.
“We should talk,” I stumble over the words. “I… I did what Lowell…”
His gaze meets mine, and I wait for him to either leave or bring the pain back.
He lunges forward, grabbing my knife before he backs me against the concrete wall, and I have nowhere to go.
Crew’s face stops inches from mine, and a low snarl escapes his throat, making my chest heave.
He grips the blade as tightly as his trembling hands will allow, then lifts it to my throat.
“How many times are you going to hurt me, Mara?” he growls, pressing the sharp blade against my skin.
I blink in shock but don’t respond. My emotions threaten to weaken me right now.
Crew’s eyes turn darker than I thought possible. “How many times will you make me bleed for your own fucked up version of revenge?”
I open my mouth to speak, but the words stick in my throat. He steps closer, our breaths mingling, and something tightens in my chest as he speaks even more deeply this time. The ancient voice returns, sending a chill that makes me shiver.
“You're delusional. All I wanted was to talk to you. Fuck, I even wanted to help you, but you refuse because of your own blinding anger. And for what?”
“Crew,” I manage to get out. “Just stop.”
“Fucking Christ.” He throws his opposite hand in the air. “Stop. Alright. You should listen to yourself.”
I furrow my brow.
“I—” The words won’t come out.
Crew moves inches from me, and rage radiates off him. He quickly rips the blade from my throat and drives the tip into the wall inches from my head. Sparks fly as the knife embeds in the wall, and I snap my eyes shut.
“Starting tonight, you will be the one who never touches me again. I’m done with empty threats, little angel, and I’m fucking done with you.”
He turns, leaving his words hanging in the air while he creates distance between us. My chest tightens as a trail of shadows follows behind him. He picks up a full glass of whiskey and downs it in one gulp before slamming it back down on a nearby table, shattering the glass.
“Crew,” I shout. “Stop.”
“Damien will show you to your room.” He reaches the threshold of the courtyard and speaks over his shoulder. “Be ready to leave at dawn or don’t. I don’t really fucking care.”
I move forward one last time, and he freezes, feeling my presence growing closer to him. He turns, facing me, and his eyes are filled with a thousand swirling emotions.
“I’m sor—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Hate yourself all you want,” he says, stepping away. “But don’t make me hate you, too. I promise you don’t want that.”
“I don’t want that anymore.” My voice shakes.
He huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Two can play this game, baby, and I promise, I play hard.”
Crew enters the dark ballroom, and I watch in shock as his fingers firmly grasp the hand of a nearby woman who smiles from ear to ear as he approaches. Her long black hair falls around her hips, and I realize it’s the woman from the club.
No.
They disappear into the sea of masked people, and my stomach drops.