Chapter Sixteen Myla
Warm blood spills down the back of my hand, its rich iron scent heavy in the air around us.
The male before me thrashes against his restraints, panic widening the pupils of his dark eyes before they roll towards the back of his head.
I release a long exhale, the exaggerated sound erasing some of my tension as I pull my dagger away from his body.
“Please,” he rasps, drawing in a heaving breath that tugs on the carved lines I’ve made in his chest. “I don’t know what—”
“Malorie Stones, age thirteen,” I begin in a deep voice, pacing behind him and using the tattered remains of his tunic to wipe his blood from my hand and dagger.
Once the weapon is clean, I slide it back into the sheath at my thigh and then grip the hilt of the curved blade that rests on the opposite leg.
The male stiffens for a second before sagging once more, his arms straining from the weight of his body.
His hands are bound above his head, looped around a metal hook hanging from a chain attached to the ceiling.
I keep my voice low as I continue. “Erina Calo, age twelve. Anya Fang, age nine.” Each name strikes another match to the inferno within me, my fingers trembling in anticipation as the rage I just released upon his body is renewed.
I adjust my grip on the frayed leather wrapped around the hilt, my grandfather’s initials carved into the black metal there.
I had stolen it from one of the relic rooms in the palace, the urge to sully something as valuable as this with my touch too strong to ignore.
Of course, no one except Navin knows I have it, and he had laughed as I presented the uniquely shaped weapon to him.
It was the day after I had bested my brother in our secret training sessions for the first time.
I wanted something to not only remember that moment but to remind me why I was doing this.
Why I traded in nights of rest in my gilded cage for the risk of getting caught outside the palace.
I am needed, here, in the forgotten spaces of Khargis.
Vigilante. Assassin. Devil. Shadow. I’ve heard the rumors of what I’m called, and I have far more respect for those titles than I do for any given to me by my royal status.
“I didn’t know they were children. I swear—”
“Spare me your bullshit, Taran,” I drawl, sliding the sharp dagger along his back and shredding what remains of his clothing until the expanse of his skin is before me.
He whimpers, and a part of me wonders if I should be concerned by how much joy the sound brings me—though I’ve already accepted that my conscience is too twisted and gnarled to be a guiding voice anymore.
“You are going to die tonight. It is going to be at my hands, and I am going to take my time hurting you. As you took your time hurting those young ones.”
“As if you’re”—he coughs, sending droplets of blood splattering onto the damp ground—“any better.”
I smile beneath the black mask covering most of my face, a matching hood draped over my head.
I don’t need to hide any part of my identity as only a few in the palace know what I look like, and I doubt any of them will ever venture into the pits of the capital.
Even if they did, the warehouse I secretly bought is hidden well.
To the outside, it appears as any abandoned building might: boarded-up windows and dilapidated stone and wood sides.
If someone decided to break in, all they would see is a large room empty of everything but cobwebs.
They’d have to search for the trap door hidden within the westernmost wall.
Then they’d have to descend a staircase that leads to a soundproof basement.
No one will ever see the horrors I inflict on my subjects here unless I want them to. “If you think we are similar, then you’re as stupid as you are revolting.” I dig the tip of the dagger into his back, twisting it slowly as he begins to scream.
“I’ll give you—you anything you want. Anything. I have—I have money. Lots of it,” he sputters.
I give another sharp twist of the dagger, waiting until his answering bellow ends before I ask, “How much?”
“Enough that you will not have to work again for a long while.” His tone grows light with hope, and he releases a shuddering breath when I pull my weapon back and walk around to his front.
There is no amount of money in the world I would take to stop doing this work, but the fact that he has enough of that money at all gives me pause.
I don’t discriminate when hunting for a predator—rich or poor, noble or without a title.
If they partake in the same depravities, I do not hesitate to be their executioner.
Though it is much more rare to find someone higher up on the social food chain, as they have the means to hide the evidence of what they do.
“How much do you think your life is worth? How much is freedom worth to you?” I ask softly, toying with that desperate hope flashing in his eyes.
When he doesn’t answer, I click my tongue and set my blade beneath his quivering chin.
“Your chance at me letting you go is dwindling, Taran. I could happily spend another few hours just slicing you up until you’re nothing but ribbons, and I can make sure you live through it all.
That you feel it all.” I tilt the blade, nicking the skin beneath his chin. “So answer the question.”
His gulp is audible as his eyes search mine before he finally gives in. “I keep a large sum of money and gold hidden in the wall of a shed at the back of my property. Only my wife is home right now. She won’t be able to stop you if you go.”
I take a step back, dropping my hand to my side. “You would let someone that so easily caught and harmed you near your wife?”
He attempts a shrug and clears his throat, his cheeks stained with tears as he leans his head against one of his upraised arms. “You’d be doing me a favor.”
Rage, hot and insistent, burns up my torso.
It ignites my blood and tightens my grip so harshly that the already worn leather around the hilt creaks just slightly.
There is no morality in males like him. I could cut at every inch of him in search of it and find nothing but iniquity and rancid blood.
He smiles, letting his guard down as if he’s won.
It takes no effort to slide my blade down the center of his chest, just enough to split the skin.
“You asked if I wanted my freedom,” he howls, his body jerking in the chains as he thrashes. “You fucking—”
“I asked if you wanted your freedom, yes. But, Taran, I don’t give a shit if you do.
I’m going to do exactly what I told you I would, and as I slice skin from your muscles and drain your blood slowly, I want you to remember that there is no mercy for those who take without permission. There will always be a reckoning.”
“People will know if you kill me. They’ll—they’ll notice my absence. You can’t do this!”
I hum, stepping up to him and pushing the tip of the dagger into the space between two of his ribs.
“But will they care that you’re gone?” I ask, dropping the modification on my voice.
The higher pitch draws his brows together comically.
Once the realization settles that I’m a female, I pull down my mask with my free hand, plunging the dagger deeper into his torso with the other.
As he screams, I methodically—cruelly—carve my resentment and hatred for all those like him into his body until there is nothing left but blood and bone.
After disposing of Taran’s body and paying a visit to my informant, I stop by the dragon fields again, only to find a sleeping Bali and Sunis in their cave.
Despite the anxiousness to bond a dragon driving me, I’m not stupid enough to wake a slumbering beast for my own gain.
Sneaking back into the palace, the adrenaline of the kill slowly wears off until I’m left hunched over myself in the shower.
Flashes of Father Yamin and his torment take root in my mind—as they always do after a night such as this—and it isn’t until I collapse onto my bed, not even bothering to get dressed in my nightgown, that the memories finally die down.
In just a few hours, I will head to the beach for my next meeting with the siren. One I hope the wretch will actually show up to. The sooner our deal is fulfilled, the sooner I can rid myself of yet another problem.
Sleep claims me swiftly, and in its darkness, I dream of nothing.