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

heat fans over my skin. Outrage boils just under the surface. Every time they speak in this way it feels like a slap to the face.

We are not the same, he and I. No matter how he tries to unite us in the name of teamwork for the upcoming Games. I don't ask for him to elaborate, but he speaks anyway.

"There was a girl, at one time, yes. She didn't break my heart, though I loved her very much. The issue was that I was already betrothed to someone else. I still kept seeing her though... still kept bedding her. I tried to talk to my father about breaking off the engagement and told him all about my lover in hopes it would sway him."

This is some true love bullshit. "Why are you telling me this? I don't care."

He sucks on his teeth for a second, glancing at me before he starts to talk again. "Telling my dad was clearly a mistake and in hindsight I should have known that, since he has such terrible problems with rage. Anyway, he found my lover. Hanged her in front of me at dinner like it was an evening show. When I tried to stop it, took out five of my father's personal guards in the process, he punished me. Took my hand." He holds up the robotic appendage. "Kicked me out of my home. He said such vile things about me for the sake of his own reputation that even... even my friends started to believe I was as terrible as my father was making me out to be."

"Banished from your prestigious circle. How terrible." I sound bitter, even to myself. I am bitter. If this is all the problems that Marcello has... if losing a father who didn't even sound as though he cared about his son is it... then he'll be fine. Clearly, he's fine.

"Messed me up for a while. Had me living on the streets where sometimes a small group of people would get a hold of me and try to kill me."

"Why the fuck would they kill you for having an affair? I'm not sure any man in The Bend even knows how to commit to someone. Affairs are like side dishes to your main course."

"Not in The Oasis they're not. And being cast out from my home, from my mother... that fucked me up for a while. I'd loved my dad. I'd loved him fiercer than anyone else, even my lover. I'd just pushed the boundaries too far for once. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back."

My throat feels dry as I force myself not to empathize. Not to think back on how much I loved Arron and how his death had and still does affects me. I know he wouldn't want it this way. Arron was always so joyful, he saw the good in things when I never could. Arron was the only light I had in this world and in one night the glow of his goodness had been extinguished. How would I have felt if he'd finally given up on me after all the failed attempts at learning to be as strong as he was? How would I have felt if he'd cast me aside and told me he wouldn't care for me anymore?

It would probably hurt more than his death. Most days I am not sure that I know how to love anyone else ever again, most days I'm not sure that I want to. So I don't. Marcello still found the courage to care, and that speaks volumes. Volumes that I refuse to acknowledge. That I refuse to allow to sway him into my good graces.

Because in the end, Marcello Torres has to die. I'll keep saying it. I'll keep reminding myself.

"Tragic," I hiss against the back of my teeth, well aware my mouth is twisted in an ugly grimace.

Finally, the old black cabin stands only a few feet away. Large cobwebs decorate the overhang that extends from the roof, glistening within the moisture of the fog. I give Marcello the best 'I feel sorry for you’ look I can manage before I storm up the steps to the door, eager to stop talking.

"Let's get them and get on the damn ship and get out of here." My back is damp and I can't be sure if it's from sweat or the humidity. It makes the fabric of my billowing shirt under the vest cling to my skin. Marcello exhales as I lift my hand to the door.

I rap my knuckles against the wood as Juilliard huffs a loud breath and Hedda stops just behind Marcello. Hinges squeak as if they've never been opened before, the red dust of rust sprinkles off of them as the door moves slowly open.

Through the crack in the door all I can see is pitch black darkness. But I can feel eyes on my skin. I know that someone or something lurks on the other side and I can't be certain, but I doubt it's anything good. A white skeletal hand stretches out of the abyss, wrapping its boney fingers around my shirt.

My feet drag across the top step and the hand snatches me into the cabin.

 

The boom of the slamming door forces every bit of sense within me to wake up. It reminds me that I’m inside and everyone else is out. Pressure holds my arms pinned at my sides, keeping me from reaching my belt. Two sets of hands start to pinch and paw at me, scratching me with razor sharp nails that makes my skin crawl. The tip of someone's noise trails against my neck where it's become exposed from my hood and hair falling behind me.

Cold chases over my skin. Goosebumps rise all over my body. All I can smell is dank