Page 82 of Dangerous Exile

He knew this place.

Knew it well.

Terror. Pain. Death.

All of that had happened here.

And he froze.

{ Chapter 29 }

His father on the floor.

His mother dropping in front of him, her bloody head half on the brick hearth.

Their bodies in front of him. Cold. Lifeless. But so fresh into death, the smallest hope remained.

Until it didn’t.

Their bodies shells. Their spirits gone to ghosts.

Ghosts.

Ness.

Ness.

Ness spitting out something brown all over the table.

Ness wasn’t a ghost. She was gagging and tied up.

And Lady Washburn wasn’t a ghost. A bastard demon—blood and skin the only thing making her fit to walk the earth. A demon holding a pistol.

Every muscle in his body burst alive. But he held still, not letting the evil woman see.

“What the hell are you doing, Dowager?” His words came cold, calculating, as he kept his focus on Lady Washburn. On the cocked pistol in her hand aimed at his chest. He only needed three steps forward. Three running steps and he could yank the gun from her hand.

An eerie chuckle bubbled up from the dowager’s throat. “I am keeping Mrs. Docherty here for her father. He can collect the rubbish of this whore. She will do you no good, Conner.”

“My name is not Conner.”

“You’re right. You’re right.” Another high-pitched chuckle escaped her, her words manic. “What was I thinking? To save lives? Mercy? What was I thinking? I need to just take care of you both. My boy doesn’t have the stomach for it. Doesn’t even know how much I’ve done for him.”

Her right hand holding the pistol lifted, her forefinger twitching, then pulling the trigger at the exact moment a teacup flew through the air, hitting her hand.

An explosion of sound and instant pain sent Talen flying backward.

He slammed into the back of the door.

A full second—a lifetime—passed before he realized the pain was only in his upper arm. Not his chest.

Shit.

Ness was flying through the air—her hands and feet tied—diving head first at the dowager. She hit her at the waist, ramming the dowager into the brick side of the fireplace. And then Ness fell, her feet tangled and of no help.

Flat onto the floor.

The dowager’s arms flew wide for balance against the fireplace and her right hand clanked onto the fire poker.