Fated Insurrection (Book 3)

Chapter 1

"It didn't take tragedy or war
to derail a man. It took
only a memory."

~~Ali Shaw

****************

~Nevada~

The last time I had seen the man slowly, or maybe quickly, dying on the couch was weeks ago when he had nearly killed me. A part of me was still angry and I had never fully felt comfortable around him during those couple of days at his house, but this wasn't something that I wished on anyone. Michael was a warlock that had been in love with my brother, an unrequited love that had led to poisonous words spewing from his mouth and panicked actions at the thought of losing Nova forever.

I wasn't a fool. I knew that loving someone that didn't love you back was no excuse or valid reason to inflict the damage he had. But I knew that love could make people do crazy things, crimes of passion happened all the time, although probably not in the way that way. Maybe I should hate him, and undoubtedly most people would. However, I had never been like most people and hating anyone wasn't something I had ever been particularly good at.

My parents had abandoned me, albeit for reasons that had their own validation if I looked from their point of view, and I had tried to hate them my entire life. But I couldn't. Hate was an ugly thing, something that shriveled at the edges of happiness and tried to wedge itself into unwanted places. Personally, I wasn't a fan.

Looking at Michael now, remembering what he had done, I still didn't hate him. He was an impulsive asshole but the men I had recently surrounded myself with were as well, in their own way. Nova needed me and because of that, even if I did hate Michael, I would do as much as I could to help save his life.

Nova was on his knees beside the couch, gingerly tugging back the tattered remains of Michael's shirt to inspect the damage. Taking the space to his right, I raised my hands to help.

"What are you doing?" August growled, stepping towards the back of the couch.

"I'm helping," I replied calmly, not looking up as I tore more of the bloodsoaked fabric.

"Don't you think we have bigger things to worry about right now than saving the fucker that nearly killed you?" he spat, his irritated state forcing power to ripple through the air.

His words drew my attention to the other side of the room. Alana was sitting in an armchair, her face white as a sheet and her hands folded in her lap. Dominic was kneeling in front of her, his hands cupping her face as he whispered words that didn't meet my ears. Alana didn't respond, her shocked state seeming frozen as she stared through Dominic without seeing his face or hearing his voice.

My heart ached for her, but there was nothing I could do, nothing that would immediately eliminate her suffering. I had lost a parent yes, but not both and never a sibling. Alana had lost her entire family to something we had no way of understanding, at least not yet. There were no answers I could give her and I knew there were no words that would make the pain go away.

"There's nothing I can do right now, August," I whispered, meeting his blazing silvery amethyst eyes. "Unless you're wanting me to jump onto a revenge filled warpath that will most likely get me killed, there is nothing I can do to fix that. Something tells me that adding my death to the list of lost loved ones won't make her feel any better."

"That's not what I meant. Damn it Nevada, don't be stupid!" August snarled, his energy spiking. "This warlock is dangerous!"

"I vote we let him die," Robbie threw in, amber orbs narrowed towards the near lifeless body. "He's a danger to the two of you. I say we just kill him and be done with it, just put the bastard out of everyone's misery"