Somewhere Between the Depths

Chapter Thirty-One

Nora

My body is screaming at me to stop, to sit down, to lie down, anything but be on my feet stalking toward Sloane fucking Delancey. My head is spinning, the room tilting on its axis. Maybe I have a concussion... But none of that matters when I see Lydia in that fucking brute's arms. I'm going to smash his head in and dance over his remains. I clench my fists, watching with amusement as Sloane whirls around as if he's seen a ghost. 

My eyes drift beyond him, clashing with glowing chartreuse as I take in Silas and the other Horsemen standing in the doorway. Darko is raging at Knox to let Lydia go, his teeth bared as he snarls at the giant fucker. I snap my gaze to her, noticing how she's inching for the pocketknife in her jeans as slowly as she can. I fight back a smirk. Smart girl. My eyes drift back to Sloane who's eyeing with a mixture of regret and disgust. 

"Elenora Prescott." My name drips off Sloane's tongue like poison and I bite down on a shudder. 

That name. That fucking name that's never belonged to me, will never belong to me. I square my shoulders despite the pain that sizzles through my body at the moment and give Sloane my best grin. 

"Eleanora Morrison, actually." I correct. 

Cash lets out a soft gasp, stepping forward to flank Silas. I've always been his daughter, always been a Morrison even when Jace had his claws in me so deep I thought I'd never survive. I was a fighter from birth because my father, my true father, was also a fighter. It's in my blood, it's my legacy. I'm the daughter of a Horseman, and I'll be damned if I let this pansy ass fucker in front of me take me or my sister out of the picture. 

"Morrison?!" Sloane cuts his gaze to Cash then back to me, connecting dots he didn't even know existed. "You... You're the Pres's daughter?!" All the blood drains from his face at the realization. 

A loud grunt fills the air as Knox falls backward, but before Sloane can move, Lydia is right behind him, the blade of her knife digging into the flesh of his throat. 

"That's right, asshole. You've fucked with the wrong girls." She kicks him in the back of the leg, forcing him down to his knees.

I step forward, reaching my hand out for her blade as he glares daggers up at me. I give him my sweetest smirk, slashing the knife across his cheek. Blood wells and pours down his face, coating his shirt and splashing onto my pants. My body sways and I fight to stay upright as I crouch until we're eye level, Silas stalking up behind him as Enzo and Matteo snatch Knox up and drag him further into the darkened warehouse. 

"Three years ago, you shot the man I love in cold blood in the middle of the street. You didn't care that you'd taken the best thing in my life away from me. You didn't care that he was the ray of sunshine in my otherwise cloudy existence. I won't bother getting all poetic on you, I know you couldn't care less, but I've waited for this moment. This moment to look you in the eye and let you know that I'm the reason your life is going to shit right now. ATF will be here tomorrow, and they're taking your entire club down. Everyone will be buried beneath the jail and the Royal's will be wiped off the fucking map. I contemplated letting you live to watch the downfall, but I'm going to enjoy this much more." I slash the knife across his throat before the shock has even fully settled onto his features. 

Blood sprays over me and he gurgles, hands reaching up to try and stifle the bleeding but its no use. He's dying and quickly. I lean in with a devilish grin. 

"My sister was right. You fucked with the wrong girls." 

Silas drops Sloane back onto the concrete, stepping around the growing puddle of blood as he yanks me into his arms. I drop the knife to the floor with a clatter, wrapping my bloodstained arms around his waist as I sag against him. I breathe him in, nuzzling my face into his chest despite the way my bruised skin protests.