Chapter 1
Chapter
One
Sage
It's not the blinding sun that wakes me, but rather the happy singsong tones of birds chirping as they fly overhead. A shrill whistle in my ear, they startle me awake. I'm in a pathetic position, as difficult as it is to admit.
My leg is stuck, with my foot precariously hanging outside the fence and my ankle sprained from the pressure. Dust from our front driveway covers my clothes and I'm lying in my own dried blood. Everything hurts as I groan and try to sit up.
I reach up and touch my head, feeling the sting from the large bump that is forming there. I grab my leg and try to yank it free from the fence, sending myself ass over head when I finally get free.
Flashes of last night come back to me. Chasing Alexei Rushkoff. Finding Alexei Rushkoff. Fighting Alexei Rushkoff. Then ultimately losing and running away with my tail between my legs, hitting myself on the head to a knockout when I tried to climb over the fence to escape him.
I stand up and begin a very pathetic limp up the front driveway. I'm still bleeding a little from the swipe Alexei got at me with his knife. The blood drips down my jeans and onto the path behind me like a trail of breadcrumbs.
I never realized how long this driveway was until having to walk up it with a bleeding and near-broken leg.
I make it to the front steps before I can't take it any longer and collapse, sitting there and letting my legs sink beneath me.
The view of the estate is beautiful in the morning.
Freshly mowed grass still coated by the reminder of raindrops from the night before.
Clear blue skies, a warm sun and the view of the tree line on the horizon.
All largely ruined by the trail of blood I've left behind.
It's been six months since I made a death promise with Alexei. And yet it hasn't reached its conclusion. Not for either one of our lack of trying. Alexei takes nearly as many shots at me as I do at him. A victor still to emerge.
The scars on my back are much older than the many new ones Alexei has given me. I can't shake the thought that he is playing with me. Last night he chased me all the way across his territory and here into mine. The look on his face was wicked and predatory.
I cringe thinking of how doe-eyed and scared I must have looked. And how right he was. There was no one to catch me. There isn't anyone to catch me.
The door swings open suddenly, making me jump, and Freddie comes rushing out.
"Christ, bella," he says, holding his chest. "There you are. We were so worried."
I smile softly. "As you can see, I've come up just fine." I twist to show him the cut on my leg that is still drip-feeding blood.
Freddie frowns as he sits next to me on the front step. He turns my leg and inspects the wound. "Your uncle was up all night looking for you. You scare him. With all this."
I fight the urge to roll my eyes almost as hard as I fight the urge to fall into his guilt trip.
He looks at me and then shakes his head. I see less of the playful Freddie I know and love every day. "Come on, let's go put your uncle out of his misery."
Freddie stands then, holding out his hand for me.
I cringe as I neglect to reach for it. "Freddie..." I say. "I don't think I can walk."
Freddie smiles instead of sighs, and lifts me up bridal-style to carry me into the house. He pushes the door open and gallantly carries me across the threshold.
We don't get very far into the front hallway before Uncle Anton is barreling towards us. He looks like he's about to knock me over, but Freddie still chuckles as he places me down in his path and says, "Best let you stand on your own two feet, bella."
Anton stops just short of getting right in my face. He opens his mouth and points his finger to say something, but can't seem to find the words. In the end, he looks me up and down and just says, "You look like shit."
"Gee, thanks."
He runs his hands through his hair as he turns away. "You look like you got your ass kicked."
I remain defiant when I say, "Well, that's subjective depending on who you ask."
Anton is fast to spot the small pool of blood I'm standing in from where my leg stubbornly bleeds. As is Freddie. I must have earned some emblem of respect from them because neither one of them rushes to patch it up.
"It's been months, Sage. Months of this with him," Anton says, pacing. I already loathe him for what he's about to say. "When is enough going to be enough?"
"Don't even start," I say, my voice hardening. I don't care if I break my leg doing so; I'll storm out of here if I have to listen to much more of this.
"Isn't it time?" Anton says. "You've proven you can stand up to him. You've each given each other a few strikes. Isn't it time to stop this madness? Isn't it time to let it go?"
My voice is a growl when I say, "I will never let it go."
Anton closes his eyes, controlling his obvious urge to shout. "That is what I'm afraid of." He clicks his fingers and someone brings him a bottle of scotch that he generously chugs from. "That you won't give this up. That he won't give this up."
Freddie watches anxiously from the side of the room, rubbing his chin but deciding not to get involved. Even as I eye him for help that I know I'm not going to get.
"I cannot be there for you all the time."
"I don't need backup, for fuck's sake," I say.
Anton grimaces, and I hold back my urge to kill him for what he's not saying.
He's afraid of the ending.
Of the day that Alexei Rushkoff has his way and murders me.
He won't. But Anton doesn't think that.
Alexei Rushkoff killed the man I love. The agony of a future I no longer get to have rests solely on his shoulders. I'm sure I can take Alexei. What I don't tell Anton is that I'm not afraid if I can't.
I can see the careful, calculated plotting behind my uncle's eyes.
He's anticipating that at some point he'll have to step in to save me, thus igniting a war.
He won't say so, but I know that's what he plans.
There's no concept for him that I could actually win.
And I can't trust him to respect my wish that nobody goes to war for me. He'd do it anyway. He's done so before.
Anton drops his head. "Please, anima mia," he whispers. "Tell me. Tell me what I have to do to get you to drop this. What is it you want?"
He looks at me with desperate, imploring eyes.
There was a time when this simple look would've cut me to the core.
Now there is only one thing that could make me give up.
That could make me forgive this. It is not something that my family, any amount of money, or anyone in the world could ever give me.
Anton searches my eyes and I see his go a little more lost when he understands my only answer to that question.
I want him to be alive again.
His hopeful hands drop to his sides as he steps away.
I harden my shoulders and straighten my posture as I try to control the rage that always follow the hints of my grief.
I feel the hurt and the pain about to swallow me.
About to take me under to the point that I have no choice but to scream.
So I shove it down. As deep as it will go.
And I let rage flood the space that it holds.
I say nothing as I limp away to tend to my own wounds. Freddie grabs my arm to stop me as I pass him.
"Sage..."
His eyes beg me, too. To consider my own life. Theirs. Whatever it is they're fighting for. Either way, I am uninterested.
I don't need Freddie's or even my uncle's permission to do this. I never did. I never needed permission for any of the plans I put in motion, or the lives that I ruined by making wrong choices at every turn. By forgetting that our enemies are our enemies for a reason.
"I wish there was something I could-" Freddie starts to say until he sees the foul look I throw his way.
"Don't," I warn. "If you can't bring him back…" my heart beats harder and I anxiously lick at my lip, "…then there's nothing you can do."