O U T O F T I M E
book 3 in the 'chaos series'
in which lusine returns to earth and is reunited with steve, but not everything is as it was when they said their farewells after the events of the battle of new york. with new companions in tow, ol...
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three "beg for your life one more time"
The winter air is thick in her throat as she runs. Like her lungs fill with blood every time she takes a breath in. The metallic taste coating her tongue, her stomach churning at the flavour. A flavour all too familiar these days to be savoured.
With every step, leaves crush beneath her bare feet and the branches seem to reach out to her, trying to grab her back and hold her hostage for payment from the wolves. Blood and gold, their favourite colours to weave their gowns. Stitched from guts and gore, they dance and drink in glee and in pride of the glory of the hunt. A crown of bones fit for their queen. The false queen who bathes in blood, drinking sins like fine wine.
With every glance over her shoulder, he looms closer. Jagged teeth and wild eyes of the solitary wolf tasked with the hunt beneath the full moon. Red, beady eyes burning into her soul. Slicked back black hair; not the curls she'd once known. A ravenous snarl in place of the playful smile she'd loved.
Face soaking in tears of fear, freezing as they fall for the winter winds that buffer her as she runs for her life from one of her own.
She careens down a set of winding stairs, bloody hands smearing on the white walls in prints of despair. Down, down, down into the depths to who-knows-where. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but in his warpath.
Desperately, she searches for a place to hide. The basement was full of furniture and, in her first stroke of good fortune, a wardrobe sufficiently big enough for her to seek refuge. Hearing the claws clattering against the stone stairs above her getting closer, she hauls herself into the wardrobe, trying to slow her breathing and steady her rapid heartbeat.
As she silently begs for her life, she closes her eyes, hearing the slow approach of the attacker coming closer and closer.
This was it. This was the day she died. This was the end of her life and she could do nothing but sit back and let it happen. Let the daggers find their mark. Find their home buried in her heart, six feet under. Let them sink in one side and emerge the other, donning the colour of her blood in slick designs of rose and gold.
The doors fly open and so do her eyes. Giant moons of blue staring at her executioner.
"It's been a while, dear sister," He says, grabbing her by her hair and dragging her from hiding. Thrown on the floor, she groans and rolls onto her back, sobbing with fear and inability to hurt him again.
"Please, brother, please," She cries as he pulls the short sword from his belt, the sound reverberating though her veins. "Please," She breathes again, chest rising and falling heavily as he positions the blade over her front.
"I'm sorry, Lusine, but this is what you deserve," He replies coldly, mouth widening into a sick smile of pointed teeth, dripping with ichor.
Lycus lifts the sword up and brings it back down with swift brutality, cutting through her flesh and ribcage with ease, jolting her body from the stone.
