Chapter 52 #2
I had envisioned this moment as fulfilling and satisfying—something I had dreamed of for many years—but it just feels sad.
The power Lowell had over me disappeared when I bonded with Crew and broke our blood bond, but I somehow still feel like I’m experiencing his pain.
Though it’s difficult, I don’t break my stare.
Lowell’s gaze locks onto mine, and I narrow my eyes as I watch the light fade from his. He glares at me, and as his strength wanes, I swear I see him reach for me to help him, but he doesn’t speak. He wouldn’t spend his last moments feeling rejected.
I step forward, and Carver pauses to allow this moment to happen. The Elder’s wide eyes find mine, and I glare at his weakening state.
“Who feels weak now?” I ask. “Who feels fear now, Lowell?”
A hand wraps around my wrist, and I glance over my shoulder. Bronwyn steps closer, tugging me to step back. She shakes her head, and a sadness sits behind her beautiful features.
“Don’t,” she barely whispers. “Don’t be like him. Don’t let your anger make you stoop so low.”
“Bronwyn,” I start.
Her brows crease. “Don’t be this person. You can’t fight hatred with more hate.”
A tear falls down my cheek. “He hurt me.”
“I know he did.”
“He tortured me,” I cry, stifling a sob.
“I know, Mara.” She pulls on my wrist. “But don’t let Lowell win. Don’t let him see how he’s hurt you. Don’t become what he wanted you to be.”
I stare at him, feeling as conflicted as ever.
I want to step forward and rip his head from his body.
This man caused me more pain than anyone else in this fucking world.
I curl my fist at my sides and look back at Bronwyn—my friend.
She’s someone who has trusted me, even when I never deserved it after what I did.
“I want to hurt him,” I cry, as another tear rolls down my cheek. “I want to hurt him to repay half of the pain he caused me. The blood on my hands is because of him.”
She sighs, letting a softness form over her gaze. “Don’t add his blood to your list. Don’t stain your hands with his.”
A shaky breath leaves my lips, and I feel my stomach flip.
“Please,” she begs. “For me.”
And I know it’s because if I kill him, it will change me forever. Since I owe Bronwyn a lot, I step back.
Lowell’s face contorts in panic, knowing that after everything, there is no one left to save him. My face softens, and I allow her to pull me farther away, creating distance from the man who deserves to die alone with no one by his side. His blood needs to rain, and not by my hand.
“Last chance,” Sam says. “I’ll let you have the first hit.”
I only glare at Lowell and hide my trembling hands.
“No,” I whisper. “He deserves no one. Not even my anger.”
“Very well,” Sam responds in the silence.
My eyes widen as Lowell’s body begins to decay.
A grayish hue envelops his form, and his face becomes sunken, his long white hair falling around it.
I watch in horror as his eyes sink into their sockets.
Lowell grabs his throat, and despite years of imagining his demise, witnessing it firsthand is unbearable.
He gasps, deep groans escaping his closing throat.
Carver maintains a firm grip on his arm, preventing him from collapsing to the ground and, in doing so, forcing Lowell to use every ounce of strength to remain upright.
A faint scream escapes Lowell's lips as he curls inward, shrinking into a ball of rotting flesh.
Strong gusts of wind swirl around the room, sending my hair flying in every direction, and I cover my mouth with my hand.
Bronwyn lets out a scream from behind me, and Damien reaches out to grab her waist, guiding her toward the door as Sam steps forward, his eyes wide with pride at the scene before him.
“Another one down.” Sam claps his hands together. “Only one left to go.”
I can’t fight the surge of anger that floods through me as Sam steps toward Crew, and I lunge instinctively. I move through the air faster than I ever have and grab his throat. Surprise flashes in his eyes, but even with my strength, he doesn’t move an inch.
“You’ve got a grip on you,” he says under my hold. “But what is your plan here, Castten? Do you think you can kill me?”
“I’ll die if I have to.”
“That can absolutely be arranged.” Sam laughs, and a darker shift settles around us, catching me off guard.
Locke rips from Damien’s grip, but freezes.
Iglance around the room as the world pauses and notice another dark figure emerge through the window.
The Grim steps inside, and my body shudders.
The large scythe drags along the ground, sparking as he approaches Theo and Lowell’s drained bodies.
The massive blade shines in the moonlight like the true omen of death it is, and this time, I don’t feel fear, only another betrayal of the secrecy.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” I yell at the Grim. “You knew.”
The hooded figure raises his head, and I stare into the darkness, shielding his face. “It was not my place to reveal that.”
“Bullshit,” I spit. “You are sick.”
“Sam’s debt is nearly paid,” the Grim says as the sharp blade touches Theo’s body.
I watch as a light oozes from their backs and flows into the scythe’s tip, making it glow momentarily. The Grim raises its hood as if the feeling is pleasurable. The Grim glances toward Lowell’s body and repeats the same motion, draining the Elder’s tainted soul.
“You will not take Crew from me,” I snap.
A slithering voice moves through me, “It is not my choice.”
My brows furrow. “Yes, it is. You are taking Lowell and Theo right now.”
“Because they are dead,” he responds. “I am merely doing what is natural—what is law.”
“Crew is going to make it,” I say. “It is not his time to die.”
His figure begins to fade back into the darkness. “You are correct, Mara. He will not die right now.”
“What do you mean right now?”
“Too much is already in motion to be stopped.”
“I don’t really care,” I rasp. “Make it stop. You have that power.”
“I do not,” he says. “I will collect the last soul and move on.”
“No, you fucking won’t.”
The Grim nods. “The balance is thrown off—and the High Elders are displeased. I will see you again.
“When?” I question.
“Soon.”
Ifade back into reality and slowly pan my gaze to Sam. He’s smiling widely, understanding the trance I was just in, and a sick curiosity paints his expression.
“Did you say hello for me?” he asks.
“Fuck you.” I spit on his face and watch as the saliva rolls down his brow.
Sam wraps his hand around my neck and tosses me backward. My body flies through the air, weightless, and I slam against the wall. The air leaves my lungs in a gasp, and stars fill my vision. Locke lunges toward me, trying to catch me, but my gaze locks on the couch.
“Touch her like that again, and I’ll rip your goddamn head off,” Locke’s demonic voice echoes around the room.
“Oh, I forgot how intense a new bond can be,” Sam says. “Try to control yourself, Calloway.”
Locke’s arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me into him. His heart beats chaotically, but I can’t pull my stare from Crew.
“I will kill you both,” Locke seethes.
My jaw slackens as I watch one of Crew’s fingers twitch, then another, followed by a subtle movement in his feet that travels up his legs and arms. The dark liquid no longer drips from his mouth, and the black veins start to disappear.
I grab Locke’s arm and give him a subtle look, and he follows my lead.
“We need to leave,” I mouth, and Locke nods. “Crew is awake.”