Chapter 39 Grayson
Magic slams into my chest, hurling me backward until concrete meets spine.
Dust clouds my vision, settling into my black fur as I struggle to my feet.
With a snarl, I launch myself at the nearest witch, spitting out the sulfuric taste of their blood after ripping into their throat.
Darting between them, I snap and claw, creating a wall of protection for Ghost while he works to dismantle Deidre’s barrier.
The witches throw spells at us, frantic and desperate as they realize they’re losing.
The witches are no match for Kendrick, and at last, Ghost collapses the barrier with a final push of power. Sweat drips down his forehead. He looks exhausted, but he’s still standing.
Silas tears ahead of me, a predator locked on prey, his hatred for the witch like gasoline in his veins.
I sprint after him, lungs burning, down rows of shaking metal stairs, descending deeper into darkness, the walls closing in around us, the air thick with the oppressive weight of the silo.
Kendrick, Ghost, and Andrea can handle what’s left of the witches.
It isn’t until we’re five stories underground that we hear it. Footsteps. Quick and light. Distinct rapid footfalls, the fabric of a dress swooshing against ankles and the floor as she hurries along.
She thinks she’s getting away. She had a plan, and she nearly got what she wanted.
The sound ignites something feral in Silas. He picks up speed, his wolf’s hind paws landing near his front, propelling him forward like a spring on a track. He shifts mid-leap, fur receding into his skin as he crashes into the witch, driving her into the ground.
A green light crackles from Deidre’s fingertips as she tries to shield herself, the magic sizzling against Silas’s skin.
Before she can cast again, my teeth find her forearm, sinking through fabric and flesh.
The spell leaves angry red welts across Silas’s already scarred chest, but they’re fading as his shifter healing takes over.
He stands and rolls his shoulders, as if the pain is nothing.
With my jaw locked around her, Silas’s hand encircles her throat. I release my grip and shift, taking a stand beside my twin.
“It’s over, Deidre,” Silas rasps, voice rough like gravel.
“It’s done. You’re done.” His words quiver with something between rage and fear.
Even now, after everything both good and bad, here at the end, with her bleeding and at his feet, at his mercy, I can still hear the shame in his voice. How small she once made him.
Her nails rake desperately at his grip as her face reddens, and she struggles for air, mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from water.
“Remember when you choked me?” He squeezes tighter. “Raped me? Tortured me with fire? Sold my body to your friends?”
I shift uncomfortably. I feel hot and angry and unsure. It’s like I’m not even here. He’s lost in a world where only they exist. It’s a place in his mind he’s still trying to break free from.
His hand shifts, fur rippling along his arm, fingers turning to claws.
“Silas,” I warn. She deserves death, but I saw what he did to her second, Pierre. I don’t want his soul any more tortured or burdened with darkness.
“Remember when you brought that first shifter to me? Years ago, before the dozens that came after her? Remember what you made me do to her? She forgave me, you know, in the end. Before she killed herself.”
His other hand shifts into a claw, ripping into her dress, exposing the soft flesh of her belly. Deidre is still gagging, slapping uselessly at the grip around her throat.
“Remember all the others? All the people you had me kill? Remember Lily?”
His claw pierces her skin, slowly at first, with deliberately torturous precision. A rivulet of crimson spills down her stomach.
His voice drops to a whisper. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me how you justify it—all those wolves dead, all that suffering you brought down on us—just so you could have a baby. I heard every word of your speech.” He leans closer, lips curling. “You? A mother?”
He releases her, thrusting her body to the ground. Deidre sees death coming. It laces her words with contempt, paired with a rasp from being choked.
“You want to know why I picked you, Silas? You want to know why you? There were others I could have chosen. But I needed a warrior. A champion.”
He tenses, bracing for impact. A sound escapes her bruised throat—something between a laugh and a chime.
“I’m kidding. I needed a whore. I needed a lazy, worthless, degenerate slut who would fuck anything with a pulse, and you were perfect for the role.
Enough power to get me what I wanted, and broken enough to control.
Someone whose self-loathing ran so deep, he’d mistake being used for being wanted. ”
I lunge to stop him, but I’m too slow. He plunges his hands into her abdomen, tearing through flesh and muscle, and extracts her organs one by one, tossing them to the ground with a sickening splat.
Her blood sprays in violent arcs while screams tear out of her.
Something terrible channels into him, as his limbs move with rapid rage, tossing parts of the woman to the ground, ripping her carcass open.
Her screams fade into silence, yet somehow linger long after she’s dead.
I never meant for this to happen—never wanted him to become this.
He turns toward me, drenched in red. The metallic, putrid stench of her innards drowns out his familiar, rainy citrus scent.
“Silas,” I start, unsure what to even say. She deserved death. But still…
He shakes his head. Grabs hold of his cock, then takes a wide stance over the body parts.
I step forward in shock, but he cuts me off with a dismissive wave.
“I promised this bitch I’d piss on her steaming flesh after I killed her.”
The casual way he says it makes my blood run cold. I search my brother’s face, scared of what I’ll find.
The image burns itself into my mind. His stance over the corpse, the stream of urine hitting her body, and the organs scattered about.
But later that night, in the small hours, when I check to see if the brother I love still exists beneath the monster I just witnessed, I’ll find his face slack with contentment, and him sleeping more peacefully than he has in years.