Vengeful Dove (Institute Thirteen #3)

Chapter 1

ELODIE

The world stills as those two words cascade over me like an unrelenting waterfall, stealing my breath under its intense pressure.

Little brother.

If the man before me realizes the sharpness of his tongue, he doesn’t show it.

His wicked grin doesn’t move an inch as he turns back to me, stuffing his hands in his pockets as I glance between the two of them, searching for any glaringly obvious resemblance.

I can barely see a thing through the unshed tears gathering in the corners of my eyes, the pain radiating through my limbs growing stronger with every short inhale.

My eyelids fall closed, tightening with every second before I force myself to pry them open again. Despite my hopes, the two of them remain before me, side by side, hovering above like the sharp blade of a guillotine, ready to claim my head.

Kael and the rebellion.

Not just any rebellion, the one led by his brother.

“You had me worried there. I thought you were going to let me down, little brother.”

A chill runs down my spine as his words replay in my mind, sharp and vicious over the thunder of my pulse quivering in my ears. Blinking back the unshed tears from my slouched position, limp against the wall, I narrow my eyes on the vampire I trusted.

He can’t look at me, let alone meet my stare. I wouldn’t be able to either with the guilt that I hope is clawing at his insides right now.

Kael’s brother sighs, rocking back on his feet as he folds his arms over his chest. “I’m disappointed you allowed her to get in such a state, little brother. She’s precious cargo,” he states, tilting his head at me, and my nostrils flare in anger.

Kael runs his tongue over his lip, still ignoring my presence as blood starts to pool at my sides, seeping from the holes that Willow left me with when she decided to pierce me with her overgrown talons.

“Anya’s daughter took a swipe at her,” Kael mutters, mentioning the bitch as if he could sense my thoughts, and it makes me hate him more.

More?

I didn’t think I hated him to begin with.

Not really.

Not in the very first moment we met when he grabbed my wrist and stopped me from banging on the glass, screaming to escape.

Not when he lured me in with his aura in the bathroom stalls and fucked me with the underlying belief that I was going to die.

Not when he shocked the hell out of me and agreed to be my guardian to keep himself alive.

Not even when he locked me in the broom closet at Institute Thirteen, leaving me to rock in darkness and fear.

I didn’t hate him any of those times, or the million more that followed, but I do now, with everything that I am.

I hate him.

“I’m even more disappointed that you didn’t put yourself in the way of those mangey claws. Didn’t our parents teach you anything at all?” The rebellion leader grunts, glaring at Kael, who sighs, his gaze fixed on his boots as he refuses to lift his head.

As his grumbles pull me from my thoughts, the blaze of pain burning through my body reignites, and no matter how much I try to catch my breath, it only intensifies, leaving me to hiss with every short and sharp inhale.

My vision blurs, my head falling back against the wall behind me with a thud as my mind recalls the moments leading up to this one, desperately trying to make sense of it all, but it’s futile.

As much as I try to place the pieces of the jigsaw together, the parts don’t seem to fit.

The Institute Games. The bloodbound trial: bound by blood, sentenced to insanity, and destined to expose the insecurities that claw at their minds.

Brenna was insane; Willow, even worse, which is why Kael insisted on carrying me to safety—but what he deems as refuge and what I categorically know is salvation are two very different things.

“Do you want me to take care of that, Little Weapon?” I wince away from the rebel as he crouches before me, extending a crooked finger. He snickers, but the storm in his eyes tells a different story. “Come now, don’t be like that.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I croak, my voice not as strong as I had hoped. Not even close. If anything, I sound groggy and weak. It may not give me the strength to face this asshole, but it’s enough to make Kael’s gaze snap to mine.

I don’t get to glare for long before a finger is pressed against my lips and an unwanted face is up close. “Don’t use that vulgar language with me.” Every word is a warning, darker than the last, as Jude stares deep into my soul.

He stands tall a moment later, shaking his blazer out as he straightens himself, while I still try to breathe through the thick and dangerous air that lingers between us. When his menacing smile turns my way, I gulp, not a single ounce of humor to be found at the action.

“Did you not hear me? I’m Kael’s better brother, Jude. Jude Forrester.”

Keeping one hand pressed against my side, I lower the other to the floor, cool blood beneath my fingertips as I try to sit myself up taller. The room feels like it’s growing smaller and smaller, the lack of windows and the one door making it worse.

To my surprise, Jude watches, waiting, intrigued instead of intervening or ignoring me. I’m sure my positioning hasn’t changed by more than an inch when I narrow my eyes at him.

“Excellent. Another disappointment.” I glower, grief and failure etched together, but I swallow it down like razor blades, refusing to give either of them the satisfaction.

“Why are you here?” There’s no poison in my words, no resounding fight that self-motivates me through the pain, there’s just…

loss. Not that Jude seems to care or notice at all.

He smiles, tilting his head at me again. “I’m here for you, of course. Isn’t it obvious?” He says it so lightheartedly and playfully that it leaves me disoriented.

“Why?” I grunt, my vision sharpening to the point that I’m certain my time has come.

Death is upon me. I can feel it. I just can’t decide what’s worse, knowing Willow was the one to make it happen, or having to listen to this ass drivel on until the time comes while Kael watches.

“I’d rather show you, Little Weapon,” he insists, the glee clear in his voice as a sense of calmness washes over me.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” I breathe, happy for those to be my last parting words as I let my eyelids fall closed, knowing it’s for the final time.

A part of me aches inside, wanting one last glance at the vampire who has consumed my thoughts since the moment my life changed, but the hatred that’s tearing through my limbs is uncontainable.

“Has she been this snarky the whole time?” Jude asks, amusement lacing his voice, and I feel myself grow weaker and smaller as Kael hums in agreement. “I thought you would have beaten it out of her by now. I gave you plenty of time.”

“I don’t lay hands on women, you know that,” Kael mutters, each word a dagger to the heart as his brother scoffs.

“You’re also too soft.”

If I could huff, I would. That motherfucker just lied to get me here. I wouldn’t call that soft.

“Can you just get on with healing her?” Kael grumbles, a hint of urgency in his voice, but it’s too little too late for that.

I’m going to die now, and I hope he’s riddled with guilt for all of eternity because of it.

“She doesn’t want help, didn’t you hear her?” Jude retorts. I can almost envision that uppity air he has, and despite the darkness that grows thicker around me, I roll my eyes behind my lids.

“I think she’s about to lose consciousness,” Kael mutters, his words barely more than a whisper, or is it me struggling to hear? Regardless, his assessment is correct, and I hate that he’s right about it.

Two whispered footsteps, and I can sense someone close beside me a moment before a hand grabs my cheeks, pushing them together to part my lips.

A rancid liquid burns down my throat, but I can’t fight it.

The taste makes me recoil as I feel it take weight in my stomach, and the moment it does, my eyes burst open and a whoosh of air parts my lips.

Disbelief consumes me as I blink up at Jude, who grins at me.

“Better?” he muses, and I grunt, shoving at his chest as I rush to my feet.

My chest heaves with every breath I take, too overwhelmed by the fact that I’m not dead right now to take accurate stock of the pain that no longer claws through my limbs.

“You’ll do well to remember who you’re in the presence of, Little Weapon.

That was your one allowance since you’ve been through a traumatic time, but don’t let it happen again.

” His gaze is like ice, his deep green eyes almost a replica of Kael’s, and I hate that I never noticed it before.

This is our third meeting now, yet it’s only in this moment that I can finally see a resemblance between them. I hate it. It burns my retinas.

I let his threat linger in the air as I chance a glance at Kael, but it’s no surprise to find him looking anywhere but at my face.

The room we stand in is still as white washed as it was before, but now that my senses are coming back to me, I can hear the cries of the rebellion coming from the other side of the walls.

I need to get out of here now.

“Stay away from me and no one gets hurt,” I warn, taking a side step toward the door to my right, but Jude moves faster than I can even comprehend, blocking the door with ease.

“Oh, breaking you is going to be almost as much fun as ruling the world with you by my side,” he mutters, licking at his bottom lip as he rakes his gaze over my blood-stained clothes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not ruling anything with you. Let’s just go ahead and put the kibosh on that now,” I declare, and he smirks as he takes a step toward me.

“Ah, Little Weapon, what fun you will be. Let me show you,” he says, taking another step forward, and I shake my head.

“I’d rather you di—”

Before I can finish my sentence, his hand is on my arm and the room shifts around us.

Nausea burns up my throat as we come to a stop, but when we do, the whitewashed walls and cries of fear are gone.

In their place stands a dark, looming, gothic building with a handful of steps between us.

Marble lion statues stand on either side of the double-arched doors, while candles of all shapes and sizes lie scattered in every corner, lighting the way.

It’s almost pretty, but the way the green cloud looms overhead makes an eeriness settle in my gut.

Maybe I did die and find my way to Hell after all.

“It’s impressive, isn’t it? The Sanctum aren’t the only ones with their own world,” he muses, awe lilting his voice as he stares at the masterpiece before us.

I glance back over my shoulder, hoping for an escape, but there’s nothing but darkness that frames us. Clearing my throat, I turn my attention back to the building, only for my breath to lodge in my throat at the new arrival standing at the top.

Walker.

My knees threaten to buckle beneath me at the familiarity his arrival offers.

His brown hair is still cropped as he stands with his feet shoulder-width apart and his arms folded over his chest, a stance I’ve seen him take a thousand times before.

Only those times we were always side by side, now we’re on opposite sides of the fence, and there’s no way that’s ever going to change.

I may have followed him into the madness once or twice before, but that’s when he had my trust, maybe even a little piece of my heart, but I’m not that girl anymore. I never will be.

“Where’s Kael?” I breathe when I realize one of the men on my shit list is no longer present, and Jude shrugs, running his fingers through his mousy-blonde hair.

“I thought you’d be glad to see the back of him.”

I gulp. “I am,” I rasp, and Jude’s grin widens.

“Then forget about him, and get ready for me to show you our mission.” He takes two steps forward, but pauses the second he realizes I’m not immediately at his side. He peers over his shoulder, cocking a brow at me as I shake my head.

“You mean your mission,” I clarify, and he snickers, raking his teeth over his bottom lip as his eyes settle on mine.

“But, Little Weapon, it’s destined to be ours.”