64. Riggs
RIGGS
Riggs shook his head, gaze clouding, and going distant.
One minute he was riding Storm, and the next, he was ankle deep in the burning sand, gripping the hilt of his sword.
He hadn’t recalled dismounting from his horse.
Hadn’t recalled drawing his weapon. His iron blade was dripping fluids, staining the golden sand crimson.
His brows bunched, and his hands went slack, his sword falling to the ground.
“What the fuck?” he quivered, staring at his blood-soaked palms. He patted his chest, checking for injuries—nothing.
Not my blood.
Not my blood.
Not my blood.
Trembling, Riggs patted his belt, realizing he was daggerless. His gaze landed on the familiar ruby hilts embedded in the eyes of several temple guards. Those that escaped his aim were split in half.
Fucking split in half.
He hadn’t meant for anyone to get hurt.
Izara sauntered in front of him with a sinister smile.
“Riggs, what have you done?” She shook her head in slow movements.
“You can’t just go around killing our guards.
” She crossed her arms, her emerald eyes blazing with amusement.
His gaze fell on her finger where a band of white lay, her ring resting on another finger.
She used her powers.
“What did you do, Izara?” Riggs asked, his features twisting with disbelief.
She threw her head back, laughing viciously. “You certainly ask a lot of questions.” She crouched, running her fingers across his face, and he jerked away. “Let me get a taste.”
Slowly, she sucked her index, pulling the blood clean off. She flashed a wicked smile. “Why did you choose her?”
His stomach plunged.
Riggs placed his hand over his chest. “Izara, I was going to tell you,” he insisted, his voice full of empathy.
She held her palm up. “I’ve heard enough.” Her face was stone cold, her eyes dancing around the bodies scattered across the sand. “You have been a bad, bad boy.” She chuckled. “Pity. A man who wished to save the world turned out to be a deadly killer of fathers and sons. How could you?”
No.
No.
No.
“You made me do this!?” Riggs screamed, fists tightening.
“No, Riggs, you did this. Your hands are the ones covered in blood. Not mine.”
Izara knew how much finding a cure meant to him. She knew he never wanted to hurt anyone.
How could she have done this?
“You,” Riggs spat, daring to walk closer to her. His stomach whirled, bile climbing up his throat.
“I’d think about your next move,” she said, brandishing her snake ring.
Riggs halted. “Why? Why make me do this?” He glanced at Killian and Esemeray running down the steps and hid any emotion as he locked eyes with Izara.
Izara’s voice dripped with cruelty, “You hurt me. I hurt you. You will pay for what you have done.” She twirled the snake ring, then pulled it off.
His heart thundered as he lunged for her, but he was too late.
Silver flooded his vision.