Everlife (Everlife #3)

So I was sent in, because my specialty is romance, like James, only on the opposite end of the spectrum. He is (supposedly) the good boy a good girl can build a life with, and I am the bad boy those good girls hope to tame, (supposedly) exciting. I can show them the time of their lives.

At first, Ten wanted nothing to do with me. Not exactly a new experience. Many others have rejected me, too. Then, she softened toward me. How? I must know! But the specifics remain a blank.

Why does it matter? In the end, she rejected me, choosing Troika.

As she softened toward me, I softened toward her. I must have despaired, knowing I’d lost her. Wrong. Knowing I’d never truly won her.

I can’t have Ten and my position in Myriad. One will always endanger the other.

She made her choice, leaving me in the dust. After our bonding, I had to do the same.

Ten moans, as if she’s in pain, and my attention zooms to her. She’s surrounded by darkness. My shadows didn’t run away to hide. No, they zoomed along the bridge, entering her mind…strengthening the darkness already writhing inside her. She’s fighting, but she’s losing, growing weaker.

Protective instincts surge, and I curse. This girl and her memories have me twisted up. I make a decision, or think I do, and emotion rises up to change my mind.

Emotion—or trust?

I don’t know, I can’t tell. Up is down and down is up. If the shadows overtake her, I will win. Her Myriad side will take over. Maybe. Probably. She’ll do what I considered impossible and betray Troika. Hopefully.

No, no, not hopefully. I like her, just as she is. I don’t want to change her. She’s—

Boom!

My eyelids spring open as the door to the rented room bursts at the hinges. Zhi Chen looms in the entryway, a Dazer in hand. Dark hair. Pale skin with a slight golden tint. Behind him are three men—that I can see. Knowing my Leader, I’m sure many others surround the building.

I stagger to my feet while shoving Ten on to the bed behind me, using my body as a shield. A sense of urgency bombards me. Get rid of them. Now. I need more time. I’m not ready to part with Ten.

She splays across the mattress, her eyes closed, her hands pressed over her ears. Little whimpers escape her.

“Go,” I shout, but of course, Zhi remains in place. He’s a Leader, my superior.

“We’re here for the girl.” His smile reminds me of Dr. Vans’s. Cold. Cruel. “But don’t worry, Mr. Flynn. You’ll be coming with us. We’d like to…chat with you, too.”

My hands fist, the bones so taut I fear my knuckles will cut through my skin. “The Troikans call me the Butcher, Mr. Chen. Do no’ make me show you why.”

He pales but remains in place. “You are outnumbered and outgunned.”

I could beg for mercy—but I won’t. Zhi knows nothing about my past. Few do. Before Archer’s defection, he erased details about the abuse I endured from my files. As a beloved son of the Secondking, he had access to every building in every city, and no one dared question his actions.

At the time, I thought he had my back. He was the only friend I trusted. When he left, I figured the action was a parting gift, and I hated him all the more. He’d known he was leaving, but hadn’t talked to me or warned me.

For years I wondered how Archer could give up glorious freedom in exchange for the stifling rules found in Troika. I even asked him once, when he attempted to recruit me.

I desire the trust of my brethren more than the adoration of my father’s people.

At the time, I considered him a fool. Now…

“Take us tae Ambrosine, then,” I demand. I’ll speak with the king directly. After everything I’ve done for Myriad, he’ll agree to place Ten in my care. He must.

Zhi’s smile only widens. “Who do you think ordered us to take her in early?”

My heart drops into my stomach. No. Absolutely not. But…

I know as well as anyone that the Secondking will do anything, betray anyone, to defeat Troika.

As Ten says, we reap what we sow. I sowed betrayal, so, I’m reaping betrayal. This is my fault in more ways than one.

“If she’s hurt…” I stealthily reach for the dagger hidden in the waist of my jeans.

“Oh, she’ll be hurt, and so will you.” Zhi squeezes the trigger on the Dazer. “That is the only guarantee I can give you.”





chapter fifteen



“If you do not work, you do not eat.”

—Troika

Ten

Voices. Strange noises. Huffs and puffs. Grunts. One thud after another.

Fighting?

I pry open heavy eyelids. My vision is hazy. I think I see Killian dodge a stream of Dazer fire as he lunges at a group of soldiers. Intruders! He uses his wrist cuffs to disarm two men. Not just to disarm, but to arm himself. The hooks at the ends of the wires latch on to the weapons and fling them in Killian’s direction. He catches both and fires.

Pop, pop, pop. Pop, pop.

Men bellow with agony.

Why would Killian need the soldiers’ weapons when he has ours?

Unless ours do not work…

Darkness envelops me, pain sears me and I lose track of my surroundings. My fault. I gave my Light—my strength— to Killian, and took some of his shadows. Only wanted to set him free.

His life has been a series of tragedies, and I hoped to give him peace. I want better for him—and I’ll be better for him, even if it destroys me.

He comes first. Love comes first.

Darkness will not win.

Except, the shadows in my mind are thicker than before and only growing. Old resentments flare, no longer content to remain hidden, blending with a fresh surge of rage.

Killian betrayed me. With his shadows come more and more of his secrets. After our shower, he messaged his Leader, thinking he would win me over, convince me that there’s no better place to live than Myriad. Zhi Chen promised to send someone to follow and “protect” us. What a joke. As if the powers that be would ever accept me. All along, they planned to hurt and use me.

Still, a part of me refuses to fault him for doing what he thinks is right, what is best for his people, and the realization makes me flinch. I’m Kayla, I realize. I thought myself different, thought my love stronger and my man nobler. Wrong! Killian taught me better.

Luciana said Myriadians go crazy after a bond, and Troikans suffer later. Now I get it. Because of Killian’s actions, I’m going to suffer. I am suffering.

If there’s a reason for his memory loss, there’s a reason for this. What am I supposed to learn? How to forgive? I can do that. To trust him, anyway? I can’t.

No, you won’t. Trust is a choice, like love.

Fool! Look where love takes you.

Stop! What’s done is done. Anger will lead me down the wrong path. I’ll rant and rave, and do nothing but convince Killian that he made the right decision, choosing his realm over me.

Punish them all. Make them beg for mercy.

A command from my deepest, darkest instincts. A desire to get even with the people who betrayed me. Tit for tat. I did nothing wrong, and yet I suffer. A tormentor deserves to suffer a thousand times worse than his victims, yes? Problem is, these instincts aren’t always right. Fruit that grows on a poisoned tree is poison. If I give tit for tat, I’m no better than the one who hurt me. Actually, I’m worse. I’m a hypocrite.

And really, blame can be laid at my door, too. Sow, reap. Once, I put Troika first, Killian second. Today, Killian put Myriad first, me second.

The best response? Resist rage. Look beyond the moment to the eternal.

What future do I desire? One with Killian, or without?

1 + 0 = 1

1 + 1 = 2

There are two sides to every story. The positive and the negative. Some people say there’s a third side. Neutral. But neutral isn’t a side—it’s an excuse.

Pain explodes through my head, disrupting my musings, drawing me back into the present. Killian hisses, experiencing the same explosion of pain. Perhaps he is the cause?

Then I’m floating, the softness of the mattress no longer supporting me. No, not floating. I’m…being carried? A heart beats against my temple, and an unfamiliar scent envelopes me—grapes not yet completely fermented into wine. Not unpleasant, but not welcome, either.

My darker side loves it, has never smelled anything sweeter.