The scent of fresh blood greeted Layla when she woke up. She sat up, head pounding, and opened her eyes. It was as if a massacre had unfolded in the lair. Blood coated every wall and even splattered on the ceiling. Layla tried to stand, but she slipped, her hands covered in blood, her body surrounded by a large puddle of it.
The blood was not what shocked Layla. She had woken up to bloodbaths countless times before she got a handle on her reaperhood when she was younger. What drew unease across her skin like a serrated blade was the body lying beside her.
Her friend. Dead.
Mei stared up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Blood poured over her shirtfront and skirt, still dripping from the gaping wound in her throat. Even in death, Layla could smell the humanity on her.
The last thing she remembered was Mei’s nose bleeding right after the cure had begun to work. Everything went fuzzy after that, memories showing up in her mind as nameless blood-soaked screams and cries for help. Layla couldn’t believe that anything had gone this wrong. Even though she could taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth and felt the torn, bloody flesh beneath her nails.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and tried to steady her shallow breathing as the blood pooling around her soaked into her pants. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that it could not have been her, the blame continued to wear her name.
The door opened and Mr. Saint and Mr. Wayne entered the room. Neither of them looked shocked to see the blood everywhere. They took in the soaked walls, noses wrinkling at the stench.
One more slip and she might end up killing them too. Then what would happen to the treaty? It would go unwritten, the cure would be revoked, and Layla would have ruined countless lives for her clan mates and reapers beyond.
Stephen Wayne let out a low whistle while he approached Layla in her mess of blood. “Oh, Miss Quinn…”
A scoff left Mr. Saint’s mouth and he came to stand beside his colleague, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Look what you’ve done, Layla. Just as Theo Smith’s death is on you, so is your friend’s. Mr. Wayne tried to warn you, but your arrogance clouded your judgment. You’ve never had control over your reaper instincts, and no reaper ever will. Now you can live with this shame,” he snapped.
Layla finally looked up at them. Her body trembled and when she spoke, her voice was small. “No. I want the cure. I can’t…I can’t live like this anymore,” she whispered.
Layla waited for him to shake his head and refuse to help her. She had spent so long in the shadow of death, waiting for life to crush her and finally force her to choose the latter option because a reaper had nowhere to go but to hell in the end, but now, the person she least expected to, was offering her a hand up. Now, Layla might have had a chance at life. And she had no one to thank but the very man who had ruined her in the first place.
Nothing about reaperhood was natural, or right. She would have to be a fool to refuse a chance at restarting her life. So when Stephen Wayne reached for her, she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.
A storm had broken out over New York. The darkest clouds loomed above the Saint territory and hung lower than the ones encroaching on the rest of the city. Even over the hotel, the sky remained relatively clear, though a thick mist had begun to form around Elise and Sterling—who still refused to speak to her.
“Sterling. Please talk to me,” Elise said.
He turned by the doors to the hotel, but didn’t face her. “Your father says you are not to be trusted.”
Elise blinked. “Pardon me—”
Finally, Sterling turned around. Shadows covered his eyes and he met her gaze with only cool resentment. “He believes you’re headed down the wrong path. I’m afraid of the choices you’ll make, and I won’t go down this path with you.” He faced the door again.
Her heart might have broken in half, but Elise refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words hit her exactly where he intended to hurt her. She pursed her lips and was thankful when the door swung open and Mr. Wayne and her father emerged.
“I’m afraid there’s been an incident,” Mr. Saint said. He pushed the door open wider, revealing Layla, who sat, soaked in blood, in the entryway.
“What the hell,” Elise almost shrieked when she saw Layla. Blood covered so much of her body, Elise couldn’t even remember the original color of her clothes. She stepped in front of Layla and reached for her, but her father slapped her hands away.
“Do not touch her,” he said firmly.
Elise didn’t even look at him. Her attention remained, alarmed and concerned, on Layla, who couldn’t seem to focus on her. Her brown eyes were glazed over and she stared right through Elise. “What did you do to her?” She looked past Layla and down the hallway, expecting to see Mei, but it was empty. “Where is Mei?” Elise demanded. She glared at her father.
“Your darling reaper friend killed her,” her father said strongly. He pushed Elise back so hard, she stumbled. “Do not try to defend her. I know where your loyalties lie now. I was a fool to believe you would ever do anything good for this family. You’ve never gotten over whatever infatuation you have for her and all that she represents.”
Air seared Elise’s chest and throat as she struggled to breathe. “No.” Her eyes flickered down to Layla, hoping and begging for some sign of that usual fire she had in her. But the young reaper’s eyes remained dull and lifeless, as if her flame had been snuffed out. Elise looked to her father once more. “You’re the one in the wrong. You have been wrong for years. You just cannot stand it when anyone challenges you. So when Genevieve and Daniel Quinn suggested working with the reapers all those years ago, you snapped. You’re not interested in relinquishing power and sharing anything. You’re built on lies. Just like this cure.” Elise pushed her hands into her father’s chest. He hardly shifted under her shove.
Her father’s hand gripped her wrist. He leaned so close to her, she felt his breath on her face when he hissed, “You know nothing. If you knew what was good for you, you would shut up and do as I say.”
Elise yanked her arm free. “I’ve been doing what you said since I was born. I refuse to listen anymore,” she snapped.
Something lethal lit her father’s eyes. For a moment, true fear struck Elise, and she almost considered backing off. He was a terrible father and a liar, but he was still one of the most powerful men in New York, and Elise was nothing compared to him. Mr. Saint gripped her chin hard. “You promised me. You kill the Quinn girl. You are still to do that. And, fine, you no longer have to listen to me after that. I remove you as my heir. Sterling will replace you.” He released her so aggressively, Elise hit the wall as she fell back.
“Sir?” Sterling asked.
“You heard me,” Mr. Saint barked. He gave Elise one final dirty look, then gripped Layla’s arm and pushed her into the hotel. Weeks ago, had her father done this to her, Elise might have cried until she could no longer breathe. But now, she stood against the wall, trembling with a rage she wasn’t sure was possible until now, after seeing him drag Layla away from her.
Mr. Wayne, who had hardly moved since the altercation began, thrust his open hand toward Elise. In it was a vial. “You made me a promise, Elise.”