Fated Hearts (Echoes of Darkness Prequel)

37

Ava

H eart raw and cheeks streaked with old and fresh tears, I look through the window, watching the city pass by in a blur from the passenger seat of Logan’s truck. We just left Tony’s funeral service, but I couldn’t bear to see him being lowered into the ground, so we skipped the burial at the cemetery. Emily went for both of us.

So many people showed up at the service. I’m not surprised Tony was popular with his kind nature and effervescent personality. I cried and laughed as I listened to the speeches. Almost all of them were filled with funny stories, my favorite being those his mother reminisced. Even if I’ll never be able to forget the way I found Tony on the cold, blood-soaked ground on the night of the Halloween party, I refuse to remember him like that. He will always be my sweet Tony, who knew the exact thing to say to lift my spirit, a sparkling light in the darkness and a force of nature.

Logan’s hand squeezes my thigh and pulls me out of my thoughts. “You okay?” he asks, his voice thick with concern. His amber gaze captures mine briefly before fixating again on the traffic. He’s been nothing but perfect since I woke up at his house three days ago, which we didn’t leave until today. We spent the whole time in bed, consumed by pleasure and only getting up to shower and eat.

“I just miss him,” I sigh and wipe at my cheeks, not used to the feel of the scar under the pad of my finger. Even though Malik managed to heal me, silver is poisonous to wolf shifters, and my face and body will forever be riddled with the scars left behind by Clayton’s blade. The ones in the center of my chest, on my thigh, and my right cheek the worst.

I cried when I first saw them, but then Logan wiped my tears with gentle fingers and fucked me in front of a mirror, telling me how beautiful I am to him, more now than ever. How these scars mean that, above all else, I’m a survivor. And how they serve as a reminder that I’m a badass for enduring torture that anyone else in my position would crumble under.

Deep down, I know Logan is right. There will probably be a time in the near future when I won’t flinch when catching my reflection in a mirror, but they’re still fresh. And as much as I hate being vain, I can’t help but wish I didn’t have them at all because every time I feel the puckered skin with my fingers, I get a flashback of the blade slicing through my flesh.

Logan nods in understanding. He is battling his own grief. “I have a surprise for you,” he says after a few beats of silence.

“Oh, do tell.”

He chuckles. “Well, it won’t be a surprise anymore if I tell you what it is, now would it? But I think it will be cathartic.”

Half an hour later, Logan leads me by the hand through the glass doors of the building Kaiden owns in the most exclusivist neighborhood in Ashville. I’ve never been to this part of the city before, but apparently, it was a dump when he bought this building, and now it’s filled with skyscrapers, coffee shops, fancy restaurants, and high-end stores. The type that I couldn’t even afford to make it through the threshold.

“Wow, this place is swanky,” I say, marveling at the luxury, finally grasping how influential and rich Kaiden must be. I don’t even know what to take in first: the opulent chandelier in the lobby or the marble gracing every surface. “Kaiden must be loaded.”

Logan guides me to the elevator, and his warmth seeps into my skin as he places his hand at the small of my back. “He actually owns the whole neighborhood.”

I gape at him. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. You should see his car collection, though he prefers riding his fancy-ass bike.”

“Sheesh. And I guess when you say bike, you’re not talking about the type you would use to ride in a park.” The look Logan gives me is answer enough. The elevator doors close after he jabs the minus four button. “So, are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

“You’ll see in a few minutes.”

After we exit the elevator, Logan guides me through some winding hallways until we reach a big steel door. He punches a code into the keypad on the side, and then he approaches what I assume is one of those biometric scanners you only see in spy movies. It scans his eye before the door opens with a soft click.

“Malik put powerful wards on this place, but you can never be too careful, so Kaiden made sure it also has top-notch security,” Logan explains when he sees my quirked eyebrow.

A million questions sit on my tongue, but I refrain from bombarding Logan.

He turns to me and cups my jaw in his big hand. His gaze softens, and I inevitably melt under his touch. “As I told you before, the Obsidian Conclave is responsible for protecting and ensuring the dark creatures follow the rules the Celestial Treaty imposes on us. But at the same time, Kaiden has the obligation to punish anyone who doesn’t follow them. When I open the door, you’ll see Clayton strapped to a chair, just like I found you. I was going to exert his punishment, but I think for what you endured at the hands of this piece of shit, you should be the one to do it.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine before continuing, “If you’re not up to it, that’s okay. I just thought that today…after Tony’s funeral, you would want to get your pound of flesh.”

Logan’s words imbue me with a sort of nervous energy, but I’m not sure if it’s eagerness for revenge or simple panic at Clayton’s proximity. Can I do this? Am I capable of taking someone else’s life? No, not just someone, a monster. Taking a deep breath in, resolve settles deep into my bones. I want to do this. I want to get revenge for what that motherfucker did to me, Tony, and countless other innocent people.

There must be some spark that Logan sees in my eyes because his lips curve in a dangerous smile, and before I can say anything, he lets go of my face and opens the door. There, in the middle of the room, sits Clayton, secured with silver chains to a chair, gagged. His nostrils flare when our gazes lock.

“Remember, if anything makes you feel uncomfortable, or if you change your mind at any time, we’ll go. I can deal with him later,” Logan tells me through our mental link.

“I won’t be changing my mind. I want to do this.”

“You sure?”

I simply nod, and we stride together to the big table on top of which torture instruments are laid in a very orderly manner. Turning my head, I take in the room the Conclave uses to exert the punishment on the unruly dark creatures. It looks like a big underground warehouse, and it even has cages lining the walls with symbols drawn on the floor, all empty now.

Logan picks up something from the table and extends it toward me. I recognize it immediately. It’s the knife Clayton used to carve me up. “You have to be careful so the blade doesn’t touch you since it’s made of pure silver. You can use everything you see on the table here, but I thought you might want to start with this one.”

I gingerly take the knife by the hilt from Logan’s hand, and with sure, measured steps, I approach Clayton and untie the gag around his mouth. I want to hear him suffer.

“Hello, little bird. I see you managed to survive.” Clayton tilts his head, and his eyes fixate on the nasty scar he slashed across my right cheek. The one that runs all the way from the lobe of my ear to the corner of my mouth. It’s the one I’m the most insecure about because I can’t exactly hide it under clothes. “Remember how beautifully you sang for me?” the bastard croons and has the audacity to smirk at me.

Red-hot rage blinds me, and my knuckles turn white on the hilt before I thrust the blade into his thigh as deep as I can, eliciting a surprised, agony-filled scream from him. Dragging the blade all the way to his knee, I smile—all teeth and sharp edges. He thought I didn’t have it in me.

Well, tough shit, hijo de puta, you’re going to get exactly what you deserve.

“Who’s the little bird now?” I taunt.

“You fucking, bitch!” he spews and struggles against the restraints, but he only manages to dig them further into his skin.

The smell of burned flesh crawls up my nose as I take the blade out and then lodge it right between his legs. He howls like an injured animal as blood flows from the wound in rivulets, and pure satisfaction blooms inside my veins. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“That’s my girl,” Logan says proudly in my head. “You’re so goddamn sexy right now. You look like a warrior goddess. Fuck, I’m hard as stone, baby.”

I turn around, and the heated look in Logan’s eyes turns my blood to liquid fire. The air between us sparks, and I want to go to him, but instead, I tell him, “Later,” and wink before turning around to finish what I started.

“You know what they say about karma,” I muse as I take the blade out of Clayton’s dick with a wet pop. Lifting my hand, I drag the sharp tip on his cheek until I reach the ear lobe and start carving him the same way he carved me, with slow and meticulous movements, until I reach the corner of his mouth. But I don’t stop there; I give him the full Joker smile.

He continues screaming as I glide the blade through skin and muscle. I should probably be worried about how thirsty I am for blood, but for some reason, I simply don’t give a fuck. The old Ava would spill her guts all over the cement floor if she saw me right now. Still, I can’t bring myself to conjure any feeling of guilt or remorse.

“This is for Tony, malparido ,” I seethe.

Slash.

“And this is for me.”

Slash.

“For Josh and his family.”

Slash.

“And for every other innocent person you robbed of their future.”

Slash. Slash. Slash.

After I take everything I need to quench the thirst for revenge, I let Logan put a silver bullet dipped in aconite in Clayton’s brain. When the light dims from his eyes, all I feel is a complete sense of peace. I wait for the crippling guilt to come, but it never does.