Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Wynter hated dying. She really did. It never hurt any less. Temporarily landing in the netherworld wasn’t much fun either—there was nothing pleasant about that place. But on returning, she’d always find that any wounds she’d suffered were healed. It always took a few minutes for her strength to fully return, though.
“What are you even doing here, Bowen?” a voice hissed. Ah, dear Annette. And she had company, it would seem.
Wynter had to give it to the woman, she’d taken her by surprise. It wasn’t the first time Wynter had been impaled on a sword, but it was the first time someone had done it from behind.
“I saw you sneak out of the house with a damn sword,” began Bowen, “I had a feeling you were coming here.”
Remaining still while her body regained strength, Wynter lifted her eyelids just enough to peek at the berserkers who stood a few feet away. If it wasn’t for the subtle breeze dancing over her skin in caution, her inner monster would have lunged at the little fuckers and ripped them apart by now.
Bowen thrust a hand through his hair. “You’ll be the number one suspect when she’s found dead. Dammit, Annette, you’re smarter than this.”
Wynter would have to disagree.
Annette’s hand flexed around the hilt of her bloodstained sword. “My father is dead.”
“And, what … you thought this would change that?” Bowen sniped.
“He deserved vengeance.”
“So you plan to kill Cain as well?”
“You know I can’t do that. But I can kill the little bitch who snitched on my dad and had him thrown into a pit of snakes, so I did.”
Bowen looked at her like she was insane. “And you think Cain will let this go? You think you won’t meet the same end?”
She snorted. “Like I’m dumb enough to stick around. I moved my car from the warehouse and left it outside the tunnel that leads to Devil’s Cradle. A bag of my stuff is in the trunk.”
“At least you have some plan in your head, even if it is pointless.”
“Pointless?”
“Annette, you killed the property of an Ancient without permission,” he said slowly, as if talking to a child. “That leads to death every single time. You will be hunted for the rest of your days. Someone will eventually find you and drag you back here.”
She gave her head a dismissive shake. “I know how to lie low.”
“Doesn’t matter. Your days are now officially numbered.” He swore. “I can’t believe you did this. You think this is what your father would have wanted? Really?”
She snapped her mouth shut and then shrugged. “What’s done is done.”
Groaning, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “If Cain ever realizes I let you go, not even my being Azazel’s aide will save my ass.”
She tensed, her grip on her sword tightening. “Are you thinking of turning me in?”
He dropped his hands to his sides. “No, of course not. You’re my damn niece. But you have officially fucked us both.”
“He’s right, you know,” Wynter cut in, pushing to her feet, a little dizzy but otherwise fine.
Both berserkers gawked at her.
Annette’s gaze dipped to the massive bloodstain on Wynter’s tee. “You … there’s no way you … I killed you, I know I did.”
“Yeah, you did.” Wynter cricked her neck. “I tend not to stay dead.”
The assholes continued to quite simply stare at her, as if struggling to process the situation. Annette’s hands soon began to tremble, and the color started to leave Bowen’s face. Understandable, really. Even in the world of preternaturals, beings that didn’t stay dead were considered fucking weird. Unnatural. Generally unwelcome.
Swallowing hard, Bowen backed toward the door.
A wind thick with rage swept around the room, slamming the shed door shut.
Wynter smiled at him. “I wouldn’t bother trying to run. She won’t let you leave.”
Annette raised her sword and prepared herself to lunge. Wynter didn’t get a chance to intervene. The hilt glowed red, and a sizzling sound filled the room. Annette dropped the weapon to the floor with a loud cry, shaking her blistering hand. A low, dark, otherworldly laugh bounced off the walls.
Bowen’s fearful gaze darted around the shed. “What was … who … ” He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists. “What the fuck is happening here?”
Annette licked her lips, plastering herself against the wall behind her. “You need to let us go.”
Wynter pursed her lips. “No, I really don’t.”
“You can’t kill us,” Bowen insisted. “If you do, you’ll die—the Ancients who own the rights to our souls will see to that.”
“Oh, I’m not planning to kill you,” said Wynter. “But I need you both gone from here. I mean, I can’t have you telling people that I came back to life. It’s not the sort of thing people are comfortable hearing.”
“We won’t tell anybody, we swear,” Bowen vowed, and his niece nodded frantically.