the brush fade as my focus sharpens on what I do need to hear—branches
snapping, the crunch of leaves beneath footsteps, and heavy breathing.
There’s a clear impression of his boot to my left, so I turn and follow after his
prints.
About fifteen tense minutes pass, and I alternate between a steady jog and
walking. There are no maze walls keeping them confined in one area, so it’ll be easy for them to get lost.
Xavier believes he can find his way out, but it would take him hours, and that’s without getting turned around.
A sudden, loud screech startles me, sending birds tearing through the
branches, followed by evil cackling. Sounds like Francesca’s scream, and if she’s
not already hit, she came very close to it.
I exhale shakily, my heart racing and sweat gathering at the base of my spine.
Another scream from Francesca, the tail end cutting off abruptly—
presumably from Sibby silencing her somehow. In that single moment, meant to
be hidden beneath her scream, was a twig cracking.
My head snaps in the direction, off to my left, where I see a flash of a hand
before it disappears behind a tree trunk. He’s about thirty feet ahead of me.
Clenching my jaw, I raise my crossbow and take aim. The second he steps out
from that tree, no matter which direction he heads, I’ll have a perfect shot.
Does he feel like a fly caught in the spider’s web? Trapped where he stands
while the black widow stalks from afar.
It’s exhilarating. The heady feeling pulsating between my thighs, causing my
cheeks to flush and my lids to droop.
My focus sharpens until Xavier’s fear is all I can see, smell, and taste. How
helpless he must feel, knowing his end is nearing.
“How does it feel?” I ask, just loud enough for him to hear.
Far off in the distance, another shout rings out, this time from Rocco. But they’re so far away, it barely penetrates the shroud wrapped around him and me.
He doesn’t answer, possibly holding on to hope that I don’t know exactly where he is. As if every breath he takes can’t be felt through the strings of my web.
“Does it make you sick with fear?” I persist, taking another silent step. A sliver of his elbow peeks out, and I smile. “Is your heart pounding so hard, it feels like it’s going to come out of your throat?”
The wind picks up, lashing through my hair and creating crooked branches
out of the cinnamon strands.
When it dies, I inhale deeply.
“Smell that, Xavier?”
He shifts, his elbow disappearing and a few leaves crunching under his feet.
“Smells like death.”
A stillness settles over us. So thick, even the birds quieten. And then he’s
jumping out from the tree. My finger is milliseconds from pressing the trigger when he abruptly pivots, heading the opposite direction, attempting to get me to fire the arrow prematurely.
While it didn’t work in that regard, it did throw me off my equilibrium, and it
takes me a second too long to catch up before he’s darting behind another tree.
I launch the arrow just as he disappears, a startled shout piercing my ears. I
don’t stop to see if I’ve hit him. Immediately, I grab an arrow from the quiver on
my back and begin to reload. Heart racing, I keep my hands steady as he takes
off again.
Don’t rush, Addie. Keep steady.
The second my crossbow is reloaded, I rush after him, finding a blood trail dotted in his footprints.
Desperation clouds his judgment, and he limps out from one tree toward
another with a massive trunk, his leg dragging. My arrow is jutting out from his
calf, blood bubbling from the wound as he runs. Taking aim once more, I breathe
in deep and then release, pressing the trigger as I do.
The arrow slices through the warm, summer air and lodges in the center of his
back. A piercing yelp, and he’s falling flat on his face.
My blood heats and my heart sings from his agonized groans. Nails digging
into the dirt ground, he drags himself forward, attempting to escape… to where?
There’s nowhere for him to go except to Hell.
“Somebody help!” he shouts from the top of his lungs, his voice breaking at
the end.
“Goddamn, that’s embarrassing,” I say, approaching him. I kick his injured leg when I near, grinning when he curses at me, blood tainting his spit.
Crouching beside him, I cock my head, taking in his pitiful state. His blond hair is soaked with sweat, the beads of perspiration trailing down his red face.
And those bright baby blue eyes—the very ones that watched me cry and bleed
beneath him—are so full of rage and pain, they’re nearly black.
“Silly rabbit, I told you that you couldn’t escape me.”
I hear leaves crunching in the distance along with what sounds like someone
cursing and struggling, slowly getting closer as Xavier spits more curses at me that would send my mother to an early grave. The insults roll off my back, despite how hard he tries to hurt me. He’s already done his worst when I was the one helpless and powerless.
Now, he’s nothing.
A deep growl sounds from behind me, drawing my attention away. Zade
approaches us, dragging a spitting mad Rocco by his collar, splattered with blood from head to toe. With his black hood drawn, chin tipped low, and his yin-yang eyes locked on me, I lose all cognitive function.
A dark god that embodies destruction and death, yet I’ve never felt more in love.
Rocco is no small man, yet Zade drags him as if he weighs absolutely
nothing. He drops him on the ground, earning a few nasty words, which he dutifully ignores.
“Can he run?”
“Arrow in the spine,” he clips.
My mouth dries as he nears, incapable of doing anything else but watching him bend down, seize me by the throat and crush his mouth into mine.
Milliseconds.
That’s how insignificant of a moment it takes for me to respond. He pries my
lips apart with his tongue, tasting me thoroughly and drawing an embarrassing moan from my throat.
He rips himself away, only to fist my hair and yank my head back until I have
no choice but to look him in the eye.
“A good man would be sorry that he corrupted something so pure.”
“You’ve never been a good man,” I whisper, reiterating the exact words he’s