Chapter 3

More than an hour into the drive, and I still hadn’t finished cleaning myself up. The worn cushion of the semi-truck creaked as I leaned forward, ignoring the searing pain that jolted through my torso. Looking into the visor mirror, I swiped the last of the dried blood from my face with the damp wipes. The slight sting was nothing compared to the pain of how I’d received the injuries, so I wasn’t fazed. It’d taken me most of the hour to clean up my arms. The majority of the shallow nicks had begun to heal, but the deeper ones steadily spread black blood on the bandages I’d slapped on them. I shoved the defiled cloth into the garbage bag.

The gouge in my chest was the deepest. Pulling the collar of my shirt down, I sucked in a breath between my teeth as I patted the gaping wound cleaved into the top of my breast.

The human male I’d hitched a ride with kept shooting me furtive glances, and I felt my skin crawl with disgust each time. I glared at him, catching him in the act of staring at the exposed skin of my breasts, like there wasn’t a bloody gash right at the top.

“We can stop at a hotel so you can wash all that mud off you.”

I barely held off from rolling my eyes. He’d made similar suggestions earlier when I first hopped in his truck after he’d purchased the supplies for me.

A grunt was my response. After slapping gauze onto the wound, I released the collar of my shirt so he’d stop checking out my breasts. There were hours to go still, and I didn’t want to waste the time with small talk. I leaned my head against the headrest. The scent of stale cigarettes clung to every surface of the vehicle; my heightened sense of smell didn’t make breathing it in any easier. I pushed the button to roll the window down, but it didn’t budge.

The man cleared his throat and popped his bubblegum. He kept tapping his pointer finger against the leather steering wheel cover. Dammit, I had the feeling he was about to do something stupid.

After shuffling and a creak of his seat, his hand landed high up on my thigh. He’d been the third person I’d approached, and he’d seemed a little too eager to take me with him. Now I knew why.

Of course, he’d waited until we were deep into the desert.

I sighed and grabbed his invasive hand. Letting my head loll to the side, I narrowed my eyes at him and then at the picture taped to his vent—him sitting on a stump while his wife leaned over his shoulder and two young girls stood at his sides.

Such a crock of a man. He had a whole family, and he behaved this way?

His eyes widened, and the scruff of his beard, littered with white, wiggled with his grin. This would not go the way he expected.

I tightened my grip and kept tightening it until he sucked in a breath.

“What are you doing?—”

“Shut up.” To my ears, it sounded toneless—dead. “Get me to Arizona, and I won’t break your hand.”

“Fuck! Ouch, fuck. Okay. Okay!” he said, so fast his words ran together. “Please,” he practically sobbed. The truck lurched, and I released him, balling my hand into a fist in my lap. I rubbed the spot where my pinky used to be with my thumb. It’d healed over, leaving a smooth layer of skin.

I closed my eyes and dozed in my misery. I didn’t have the energy for anything. Stuffing my emotions down right now was my only option. Otherwise, I would break.

A hollow craving panged through my stomach. I drooped against the seat. I just had to hold on a bit longer . . .

The sun peeked over the horizon; the hours had passed without an issue or another attempt to fondle me.

“Pull in there,” I ordered, pointing at the gas station with a large frog emblem.

He jerked the wheel, and the rig jostled onto the pavement. He approached the pumps and pulled behind a gray van. The truck hissed, shuddering. A little girl poked her head over the seat, playing with her dolls while an older woman pumped gas.

If he believed me cold-blooded, I wouldn’t care about slaughtering him in front of witnesses. How selfish of him to put them in danger.

I tsked, shaking my head. He immediately went pale.

“Looks like I can’t kill you now,” I announced. “Well.” I slammed my palms on my thighs, and he jumped. “Guess I have to thank you for the ride and the grope.”

I bared my teeth, and he cringed back. His chest pumped, and it worsened when I captured his hand. “You said you wouldn’t break my?—”

“I lied. Remember next time—” I squeezed, “—not to touch anyone.”

He screamed.

“Shut up!” The hair on my arms stood with my demand, and a tug in my gut swelled.

He snapped his mouth shut, but a whimper slipped out. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and I huffed. So damn weak. I gave his fingers one final crunch. He lost consciousness before his head bounced against the window. I reached over to the picture and plucked it off the dash. The creep must have used super tape with how much adhesive it still had going for it. I slapped it to his forehead then popped the dash cam facing the road free.

Shoving the door open, I hopped out of the big rig. The little girl waved as I walked away.

Pebbles crunched beneath my shoes as I approached the rounded drive of Lucian’s house, crossing through the pebbled surface. The manor looked like a mix of Victorian and American architecture. Pale decorative wood trim complimented the darker chestnut of the rest of the home. Smack in the middle loomed the large, wide door with two pillars stretching up to hold up the elaborate awning, and above that was a glass-stained image of a dragon. The swooping image of the dragon had turned gold in the gleaming sunlight. Dragons had varying aspects to their forms depending on what region the family originated from. I’d expected Enzo’s to be more serpentine, like the one on the Moretti Academy emblem, but his bulky, scary dragon form held more similarities to the four-legged creature on the glass. I climbed the steps leading to the front door.

Lucian never locked the door. He had no need to with how much land he had. Plus, if anyone ever intended to cause harm, he could easily get rid of them. That was why he had a grave site on the property.

As soon as I barged through the doors, a musty scent wafted out and stopped me in my tracks. Staleness hung the air, as if the windows hadn’t been opened in a long time. Beneath the dustiness swirled the familiar sandalwood I’d grown up with, which distinctly exuded from Lucian.

My shoulders drooped, and a balloon billowed in my belly, making it difficult to breathe. I’d grown up here, and even with the knowledge of Lucian’s involvement in this bullshit, I couldn’t stop my swelling emotions. This was home.

I carefully shut the door so the antiques within the case by the door didn’t rattle. A chill crawled over my arms.

The stairs to the right of the entrance of the foyer curved up, the chestnut-colored banister engrained with familiar swirls. The imprinted feel of their ridges echoed in my memory. Nothing had changed, but everything was different.

I wasted time shuffling from foot to foot. Hovering here with my chest both literally and emotionally aching would get me nowhere. Lucian could be here. Licking my lips, I forced one foot forward and then another. A step-by-step progression, but it felt like I carried a yacht on my shoulders with how I dragged my feet.

The old-fashioned vibe of the estate made it quaint and homey, which seemed contradictory since it was a three-story home. Lucian preferred browns and muted shades, but it didn’t take away from the antique beauty of the décor.

The office doors at the end of the hall mocked me.

Just get it over with.

I slammed my palms on the cream double doors, shoving them open so violently they ricocheted off the walls.

Lucian shot up from his desk so fast that smoke plumed from his nostrils. The barrel of a shot gun faced me.

A beard covered his face. It took Unnaturals five times longer to grow hair out. How long had it been since he shaved? He usually kept himself together. Lines bracketed his swarthy complexion, and his brown eyes widened.

Though I’d always seen him as a father figure, to strangers, he appeared the age of an older sibling. Looking across at him, I saw similarities in our features that he’d passed along our bloodline despite the many generations separating us. High cheekbones, tan skin, dark hair.

“Maya,” he said, confusion in his tone.

At his voice, my eyes watered, and he blurred. Oh, no. Oh no. Fuck.

Numbness had blanketed my body and mind, but it was being chipped away. A torrent of sobs burst from my lungs. Everything hit me like a truck.

I didn’t care anymore. If he wanted to attack me, he was welcome to. I couldn’t keep it together. The hours since Beckett’s death had been filled with torment, and the knot in my throat threatened to explode at any moment.

Palm pressed to my stomach, I bowed over and my knees hit the ground. My chest ached in a way it never had before, and it had nothing to do with the sluggishly healing gash from Osmodus. Air wrenched from my lungs. I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

My heart hurt so bad. Loss wasn’t new to me, but Beckett consisted of one fourth of my heart. He was irreplaceable.

I whimpered and nausea crawled up my throat. Shouldn’t I have died with him? The mating bond tied us together. Was that nullified by my ‘demon-ness?’ Did my other mates keep me tied to life? Maybe a part of me had died. It would make sense because I felt ruptured to pieces.

“Maya?” Lucian’s voice sounded as if I were in a fishbowl. He gripped my shoulder, shaking it. “Maya, what’s wrong?”

“Lucian,” I croaked, tears still spilling down my cheeks and into my mouth. The salty taste spread on my tongue. “Why did you use me?”

I could see nothing more than a blob hovering over my face. An arm moved, and I braced myself.

“I’m sorry, Maya.” He cupped my shoulder, squeezing. I sucked in a breath, and the stream of tears slowed. Why was he comforting me like he used to? Running to him wasn’t new, nor me crying, but I didn’t expect to experience his comfort again.

The knot in my throat throbbed, and I scrutinized his expression the best I could with tears rushing down my face. His forehead creased.

He leaned over me, rubbing my shoulder in a coaxing, circular rhythm.

“Why are you bleeding?” I hiccupped and swiped the back of my hand across my cheek. A red slash seeped through the bandage wrapped around his torso.

“Cyrus and I had a difference of opinion.” Lucian’s voice held a rumbling edge. The rough tone reminded me of Enzo.

I sniffled and squeezed my eyes shut. Enzo should be the last thing on my mind. With that sentence, Lucian confirmed he’d been a part of this. Selling Unnaturals, the shit at the school, all of it.

“Why are you bleeding?”

I let out a small laugh at his question. A fresh wave of tears flooded my eyes, and I shook my head. “We can talk about that later. Why didn’t you tell me that day I called you? Did your flight really have issues?”

Lucian’s head jerked back as if stunned or confused by my accusatory tone. Honestly, I didn’t know anymore. Everything I knew was veiled with deceptions.

“I did not lie. I was unaware of what he’d been doing to you.” He rubbed his palm over his mouth. “I planned to retrieve you without Cyrus’s knowledge, but he found out.”

I searched his face. He could be lying about this too.

“Rita likely told him,” I said hesitantly, studying his reaction. Had I lived under a roof where my only family members plotted against me?

“Rita?” His head jerked back; eyes wide. I’d never seen shock ripple over his expression like this. He . . . didn’t know. I nodded slowly.

“Did you tell her you were coming for me? She’s been involved for years, Lucian.” Saying the words was weird. How could she have done that? How had I missed how much she hated me?

“How is that possible? I took care not to expose any of that to either of you. I handled anything relating to the business away from here.” His eyes flicked back and forth until they settled on mine. “Myron,” he sneered.

“They cursed Beckett.” My voice broke on his name, and a dry sob heaved from my throat. I crumbled, chest pressed to my knees, hoping that the pain from my wound would distract me, but no. Grief sliced through my torso, and I buried my fingers into my hair. Lucian’s knees thudded to the ground near my head.

Breathe in and out —I chanted to myself. I rested my shaking hands on the ground as I raised to look him in the face.

“Beckett’s dead.”

His lifeless eyes slashed through my brain. The memory of my claws ripping through his throat . . . nausea encroached.

“That is unfortunate.” Lucian’s expression remained immobile. I blinked at him. The lack of reaction was just another indication he had been a part of this the entire time. No indignance from when he spoke about Rita or me coated his words. I bit back my litany of curses at him. It would do nothing to change his lack of empathy.

“Lucian, please help me,” I rasped, wrapping my arms around myself. “I need to destroy Osmodus.”

Dead bodies littered the path behind him. He needed to die for what he had done to me. Everyone who was part of this sick, disgusting organization needed to meet a quick end. The primary target was Osmodus, but his strength . . . I’d never fought someone that tossed me around like a rag doll. Even if I managed to win, I didn’t know if I could make it out alive. My stomach turned.

The mating bonds. If I died, would that kill them also? I speared my fingers through my hair.

I couldn’t allow that to happen.

Enzo, Tanner, and Elliot were free of the Academy. They would search for me, but it would take them a while to find me. Good. It gave me enough time to figure out how to break them free of me, and I knew an evil bitch who may just know how to do it.