Chapter 58
fifty-eight
Gentry
Without hesitation, Gentry put the paper between her teeth and tore the Favor, ignoring the utter betrayal in Kit’s eyes. Ever since Freya had woken him up, Kit had been struggling and gesturing for her to run. She inferred that the witch must’ve spelled him to where he couldn’t talk.
I’m sorry, she thought as the mark began to glow a bright red, this was the only way I could think of.
That complete, she didn’t even try to disguise her love as she looked at Kit directly for the final time.
“Kit, take Amelia and leave the Underground. Do not return for the night, or tell anyone about Freya’s whereabouts.
” The second she was done speaking, Kit started struggling, no doubt his breath being stolen by the Favor because he couldn’t obey. Not with his legs tied.
Gentry remained calm. “Now untie him, Freya.”
Her eyes gleaming with undisguised anticipation, Freya made a big show of untying Kit as slowly as she could. “There you go,” she purred once she was finished, the sound strange in Drayer’s timbre, “now be a good boy and do as you’re told.”
Gentry wasn’t surprised to see the open hatred on Freya’s face as she looked at Kit. No doubt, if their deal actually went through and Freya was freed, then she would hunt down Kit to avenge her sister.
Kit dragged his feet as he picked up a crying Amelia, every line of his face etched in pain as he tried to resist the Favor’s edict. Gentry looked away, unable to watch as the man she loved walked away for the final time. She had to be strong for this next part.
She waited until those broad shoulders disappeared, until she could no longer hear his footsteps, to address Freya.
The witch was standing tall in her stolen body, her handsome face twisted with excitement as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a bone-white needle as long as her forearm.
“It’s time for you to uphold your side of the deal,” the witch said as she stalked closer to her, “for being so cooperative, I’ll make your death quick. Now, be a dear and put that gun down.”
Gentry’s heart thundered in her chest as her impending doom approached, but she squeezed the handle of the gun in an attempt to stabilize herself.
This was what she had wanted — Kit and Amelia were now safe.
That she’d die a free woman rather than forever wasting away in a horrific hospital was an added bonus.
“I said. Put the—”
As fast as she could, Gentry whipped the gun on Freya and fired. This trick would’ve never worked on a witch with Kit’s speed, but Freya was no Kit.
Blood bloomed on Freya’s broad chest, just above her heart. She swayed and, to Gentry’s horror, remained standing. “You bitch,” she gargled, “you lied.”
Gentry could already feel the fluid filling her own lungs in response as the witch tried to push the injury onto her as she had in all the years’ past. But then Gentry emptied another bullet into the witch’s right shoulder.
Then her left. Then her leg. Systematically, she inflicted spot after spot of pain.
So quickly that the witch couldn’t keep up.
She didn’t stop until she’d emptied the clip and she was actively choking on blood as her chest burned. Freya had fallen to the ground after the second shot. As far as she could tell, the evil witch had only been able to transfer the first bullet.
But that was more than enough to kill her. Slowly, Gentry reached into her bloodsoaked pocket and clicked the panic button.
A little joke played in her head right before she lost consciousness. Her father had taught her three things in life: how to shoot a gun, how to con someone, and how to gamble. How funny was it that her last act in life had been to do all three?