Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) by Rebecca Grey (electric book reader TXT) 📕

all of him was designed for me. Every feature, every curve of muscle, as if someone had plucked my ideal man out of my head and molded him before me. If only our relationship wasn’t built on carefully balanced lies and carefully crafted words. With several pairs of stomping boots there’s reason for me to look away. More reason for me to try and forget that there was ever a connection between the two of us.

A broken sob from a very broken man, greets me as I turn away. Finnegan cradles Sloane against him. The axe has been pulled from her body, blood soaking the pair as he walks toward me. Streaks of tears and dirt cover his face. Splotches of red stain his lips, as if he tried to kiss her back to life. Even a man of his strength and age is resolved to this… this shrinking form in the face of death. His pain echoes through me in an all too familiar twinge of loss.

Hedda’s lips part in a silent ‘O.’ Part of me wants to turn back and look at Juilliard’s reaction. Prince Juilliard, that is. But I can’t look away. I can’t tear my eyes away from the woman who’d died to save me from the monster I’m somehow tied to now. For the Resistance, she’d said. I’ll kill Jefferson myself for the Resistance.

Finnegan’s glare turns menacing when he looks at the king. Then his attention flicks to the guards still entering the floor to take us all away. They’ll take Sloane away from him. Shove him up in some glorified prison cell for a while. He’ll mourn alone.

“Wait,” Finnegan rasps, “Wait!”

I don’t move. I wasn’t moving to begin with, not when I saw him walking up to Marcello and I. Especially not when I saw Sloane’s slim figure curled against him.

Finnegan falls to his knees before Marcello and I. He clutches Sloane tighter, his knuckles white. Even that small motion makes Sloane’s body start to crack and crumble. His eyes press closed and fresh tears roll down his face. “Please, I beg of you. Kill me. Kill me now.”

“Finnegan, I’m so sorry for your loss. One day you’ll move on.”

Says the man who was more heartbroken over his father’s betrayal than the loss of the love of his life. Saints, I’m so stupid. I’m so very stupid.

Marcello doesn’t see what I see. Marcello doesn’t see the pain that truly never ends. Finnegan wants to die, as did I, as I still do most days. I’d lost parental figures young, I can only imagine the loss of losing someone you’ve lived your whole life loving. And a love like theirs, full of mutual respect and gentle signs of affection could tear apart kingdoms.

“I don’t want to live in a world where she is not.” He turns his gaze to me. “You’ve made it through the games. My job is done. Don’t make me face The Oasis without her. Don’t make me do it all alone.” His voice breaks and I feel it in my bones.

I lift my dagger, still watching the Vampire. Finnegan lowers Sloane’s body and ash smears against his clothes.

“Nilsa,” Marcello warns.

Air whips past me as I lunge forward. I shove my blade in at an angle directly to his heart until the hilt is flat against his chest. The burn of tears is fresh in my gaze as it locks on Finnegan’s. Much the same, his red eyes darken. The crowd unanimously draws in a sharp breath, immediately followed by the muttering of gossip.

A long exhale wheezes out, his lips twitching up into a smile under his mustache. “Thank you.” Color immediately drains from his skin and I step away.

Shoving the blade back into my belt, I press my eyes closed. This day needs to be over. I don’t want to see or feel or think anymore. The hot press of hands grips my arms, shaking me until I feel my brain rattling inside of my head.

“What is wrong with you!? Why would you do that, Nilsa?” Marcello stops shaking me as the guard grows close, suddenly remembering who he is as he straightens himself and locks his hands behind his back.

“He was a good man and he deserved to die on his terms.”

“He would have grieved, moved on, and found a way to live again.”

Guards press in around us, ushering us forward, herding us like cattle to the set of doors they’d just entered through. The spectators are already on their feet, filtering out of the arena. The surviving Hybrids, all except Hedda and I, wave to the crowd as we exit, proud that even if they didn’t win they managed to make it out alive. I don’t see the last moment of Finnegan’s life before he becomes nothing.

“Did you not expect me to act in the nature of what I am? Oh, Marcello,” I hiss through my teeth, “how have we forgotten what we truly are during the ruse of the game? You recruited me because I am a demon clothed in Human skin. I kill. I’m happy to kill. I am a monster.” And I’ll kill your best friend with joy too, I think but don’t say out loud. I shrug, mostly to try and ease the weight of guilt that starts to settle. “And he asked for it. Not just asked, he begged.”

We move forward with the current of the crowd. Marcello lifts his hand, waving to the room. He smiles and the two dimples appear on his cheeks, but the grin doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t look at me now as he talks out of the corner of his mouth.

“This is not over. We are not done with this conversation.”

“I have no need to continue with it. So yes, we are done. The next time I see you, the next time we are