Kite007: I feel what you feel. Whether it be a kiss or a kick or a killing blow. I wished I didn’t, but you’re mine. Therefore, you are my affliction.
The first taste of truth when he told me his condition in riddles.
Kite007: Don’t go into the dark alone, little Weaver. Monsters roam the shadows, and your time is officially up.
The last darkness inside him that’d vanished entirely the night we revealed everything.
All of it.
Every letter and comma were still tangible, while the author had now vanished. I would’ve given anything for him to reappear—to magically reverse tragedy and come back to me.
Jethro…
Hunching over my phone, I let go again.
Wracking sobs, heaving ribs, and a dying soul screaming that nothing would ever be the same.
He’s dead.
He’s…
dead.
At lunchtime, Flaw appeared.
My only visitor and I didn’t know if he was friend or foe.
For the past while, I’d stared into space, picturing gruesome ways to end it.
I couldn’t cry anymore.
I couldn’t read Kite’s texts anymore.
All I could do was exist in a room where scents of love mixed with smells of war, settling deeper into hate.
Flaw didn’t speak, only delivered a meal of salad and cured ham. With sad eyes, he retreated from my room and locked the door.
It’d taken over an hour before I had the energy to move from my crumpled, soggy ball. Along with the agony of grief, I’d surpassed the craving of hunger, leaving me blissfully blank of basic necessities.
I shivered, but I wasn’t cold.
My stomach growled, but I wasn’t hungry.
My heart kept beating, but I was no longer alive.
I wasn’t human. I was a killer waiting for first blood.
Blood.
The thought of extracting hot, sticky red from Cut and Daniel kick-started my energy. My hand curled around my blade as I crawled across the carpet and poked the food.
Eat.
Stay strong.
Kill.
The ham settled like salty concrete on my tongue. Every mouthful wasn’t about nutrition or satisfaction—it was about building power so I was ready for war.
Minute by minute, my anger solidified. The Hawks had been untouchable for long enough. They believed no amount of treason or rebellion could dethrone them.
They were wrong.
Their reign was over. It was time for a new ruler. One who stood for justice rather than debts. One who would avenge those she’d lost.
They’ve underestimated me.
And they would die because of it.
Dusk crept silently across my carpet.
The tentative darkness sucked the light from glittering sequins, sinking into rich velvet from the fabric bolts on the walls. Every minute its gloomy fingers made their way stealthily from window to bed, reminding me that my world might’ve ended yesterday, but the rest of the globe didn’t care.
The sun still rose.
The moon still set.
And my heart still beat regardless.
My ears pricked as the harsh scrape of a key echoed from the opposite side of the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, grabbing my dirk from the covers.
The door swung open.
I shifted to my knees, wielding the knife. After my shower last night, I’d dressed in black leggings and an oversized cream cardigan. But no matter how many layers or quilts I snuggled beneath, I couldn’t eradicate the chill of loneliness.
My ears still echoed with gunshots.
My mind replayed the moment when Kes collapsed with blood blooming on his shirt, and Jethro dove to protect his sister.
The sister who didn’t deserve to be saved.
My jaw clenched.
Jasmine.
She was in equal running for my dislike with Daniel. In fact, she was worse. Always coming across as gentle and removed from her mad family—when, in actual fact, she’d been the instigator and in cahoots with Bonnie.
Flaw appeared.