Page 146 of Shattered Jewel
“I don’t plan on ever revealing it,” she explains. “Whether you believe in dark magic or not, so much bloodshed, violence, and terrible downfalls have come from the Anderton deaths and their hidden jewels. Sarah wanted her secrets buried with her. I stand by her wish.”
I nod. “Me, too.”
Clover gives me an understanding smile.
My thoughts whirl and stumble over each other as I try to process this information. “So, you want to bury it with her?”
“Yes. The Heart should rest beside the first innocent life lost.”
Clover’s solution hits me like a blow to the chest. It’s beautiful, hauntingly so—just like the tragic tale that surrounds it.
“The ruby will go to Sarah’s nameless daughter,” I say, tasting the syllables on my tongue.
The decision feels right. It feels just. The Heart has brought nothing but pain and sorrow to my family line, spiraling down through the centuries from Sarah to me. Now, it will bring closure—a silent end as it’s buried deep within the earth, alongside Sarah’s daughter.
“Nameless to many, but not by all,” Clover says. “Only the Vultures and I know who she is, and it will die with us.”
“Will you bring it there? To her?” I ask Clover.
Her approval is immediate and without hesitation. “Of course. We could put it there tonight.”
“Do it.”
I put as much steel into my tone as I can muster.
When I voice the decision, I feel closer to my brother than I have since his murder. It’s as if he’s standing beside me, whispering in my ear: You’ve done well, Ellie.
Chapter 35
Axe
THE PHANTOM
The stinging sensation above my heart draws me back to reality, and I glance down at the blood seeping through the bandages Rossi wrapped around my chest. It’s the only thing I wear other than white boxer briefs. Any other piece of fabric touching my skin is too much stimuli.
It’s all too fucking much.
I was the most docile of the four of us, so I was treated by Rossi first, then ushered into a guest room by Tempest before the real fun began with the rest of my brothers. No one has shared with the Vultures all of the homemade traps Caroline laid, so every now and then I hear a genuinely deplorable curse before whatever dared threaten them is broken in two.
In the quiet of one of the forgotten, upper level bedrooms, the fresh, ugly burn pulsates in time with my heartbeat, a constant reminder of the ordeal I put us all through.
And even though I sit on the edge of the bed, safe and cleaned up, this peace does little to comfort me.
My eyes scan the room, taking in the moth-eaten curtains and once ornate wallpaper of roses and gold crests. The dark opulence is undeserved. I should be rotting in the ground along with my father.
Then the door opens, and Elara walks in.
She crosses the room gracefully, dressed in cotton shorts and a white tank, her fiery auburn hair dancing around her shoulders like a living flame.
I can’t bring myself to look at her face and see what’s reflected there. The pain, the heartbreak, or even worse, the hatred.
So I keep my gaze locked on my hands, resting on my thighs.
There’s a moment of silence where Elara doesn’t speak, and neither do I.
The rustle of her clothes precedes the slight weight on the bed beside me.
She’s chosen to sit next to me—that has to mean something, right?