Page 23 of Sins of Winter
I hesitated, my hand tightening on the axe handle, a lifeline in a sea of uncertainty. Lucian laughed and closed the distance between us, his larger frame towering over mine as he came back up the stairs. “You won't hurt me, Winter,” he said confidently, almost tenderly.
“I've lived inside your head just as much as you've consumed every single crevice of mine.” With a swift, sure movement, he took the axe from my grasp and tossed it aside.
“I'll go,” I found myself saying as I took a few steps back, “but only if Mara is safe.”
He seemed to contemplate something before nodding once. “I’ll show you she's still breathing.” He guided me through the door, away from the cold and the bloodstained snow.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Still behind the anonymity of his mask, Lucian ushered me down the corridor, the silence between us punctuated by our footsteps.
“Who's in the janitor's closet?” I asked, unable to quell the dread that rose with each step we took.
“The janitor. Collateral damage, like the guards,” he said simply, as though that explained everything. Then his tone shifted and grew colder. “Matthew wasn't collateral, though. He's been on my list for quite some time.”
I didn’t dare ask where the rest of him was, or if he was still alive. I had a feeling that showing interest in any man, no matter how innocent, would bestow them a brutal death sentence. I stole a glance at Lucian. Clad in all black, his mask was a stark contrast to the dimly lit hallway, a faceless sentinel of this dark new reality.
We reached the elevators, and he pressed the call button. “I'm taking you to see your friend,” he explained at my questioning gaze as the doors slid open.
I stepped inside beside him, the confined space amplifying the tension. "She’s okay?” I had to know.
“For now,” he responded, and the casualness of his reply made my stomach sink.
The elevator ascended in a hum of machinery, carrying us towards an uncertain reunion. As we passed Regina's room, I was vividly reminded of what happened to her. She hadn’t deserved that. None of the people who lost their lives tonight had.
“Was Regina collateral damage too?”
“She was weak and lacked common sense. A means to an end.” He dispassionately deemed her as nothing more than a disposable tool, a chilling reduction of a human life to nothing more than a resource for him to exploit.
I could point out this was wrong, but Lucian wasn’t so inept he didn’t know the concept of morality.
“Who was the guy that killed her…the boyfriend?”
“One of mine. He's been keeping an eye on you since you started school, preparing for tonight. Regina was a convenient way to get closer.”
He continued to speak with an ease that was both disturbing and surreal. The way he described manipulating my life, as if it were nothing more than a board game and those around me merely extras, left me feeling like I was losing my grasp on reality.
“And the symbols on the wall?” I asked, gesturing to the cryptic signs daubed in blood.
“Those are mine, too. Ours,” he replied, a possessive pride edging his words.
“That wasn't my idea, but sometimes the others get into the full swing of things, and it's good for them to let loose.”
Let loose? The phrase reverberated in my head. There was something deeply unsettling about the nonchalance he spoke with when it came to his …friends? Peers? Indulging in their darker impulses, as if they were children playing a little too roughly in the schoolyard.
We arrived back at my dorm, and Lucian opened the door. The sound of voices greeted us. Such familiar sounds of life inside struck a dissonant chord with the night's grim symphony. I stepped over the threshold, each footfall heavy with dread as I navigated the narrow entryway that led to the main room. Lucian’s solid presence hovered at my back. The first thing I noticed was Matthew’s eyes were gone. So was the box they came in.
I took the last few steps into the main portion of the dorm.
My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, each beat a silent prayer that the scene before me would contradict the chaos that had unfolded. I was expecting the worst and got something beyond my scope of understanding.
Mara was there.
She was perfectly fine. She sat next to Thorne, their proximity not signaling captivity or distress. I stared at her, noting the blatant guilt twisting her features.
The betrayal was more piercing than any blade could be.
“No fucking way,” escaped my lips in a whisper that was half disbelief, half rage. My gaze locked onto hers, searching for an explanation in her eyes, seeing only her guilty conscious and sadness.