Cursed Angels

When we pull up to the cemetery, I’m out of the car in seconds and racing to Diana’s grave. The earth that’s been disturbed is the only clue he’s been there. I dig up the sand and find a small bottle. It’s plastic with a screw top. Without thinking, I open it to find a piece of paper scrunched inside.

A letter.

I open it quickly and find Archer’s handwriting on the lined page.

She knows the chip is out, but I’ve convinced her I haven’t remembered anything. They have a new shipment that’s arrived, and there was a girl in the container. I’ve been tasked to break this girl. Mara, my love, only you will know what this means.

There’s no way I can do it with a clear conscience. I have until Friday midday to do it. We need to move quickly. I don’t have much time before Rebekah starts questioning why I’m not my normal self. I need you, Mara. Now more than ever.

Yours,

Archer

My heart aches. It feels as if there’s barbed wire twined around it, tugging painfully, causing my breath to catch and my lungs to fight to bring in air. I don’t know how quickly we can find the third sister, but Archer needs me, and I’m not letting him down.

Hunter’s hand on my shoulder offers a squeeze of comfort, but I know nothing will calm me until we’ve taken the lot of them down. I want to watch that organization burn to the ground, and I’ll bask in its ashes.

Chapter 26

Archer

The tight ache in my chest threatens to explode into something more violent the longer I stand looking at the naked girl in front of me. She can’t be more than eighteen or nineteen, and her porcelain skin is already littered with deep purple contusions. I don’t doubt the people who brought her here would’ve taken great delight in inflicting her wounds and possibly worse. I know their minds. I’ve been there. The darkness which descends can’t be controlled. I’d learned more about the implanted chips this morning during a discussion with Rebekah. Most of the soldiers have them now. It’s made training easier, apparently, because it takes humanity out of the equation.

The men around me, the ones who brought this terrified girl here, are nothing but robotic killers. One flick of a switch and they forget everything. I can’t make my mind up whether it’s a blessing or a curse. I see every kill I’ve carried out in my head. It will haunt my sleep for eternity. I’ve done bad things, terrible, disgusting acts, which brings bile rising to my throat every time I think about them. The only act of murder I will ever commit again is to wrap my hands around Rebekah Ward’s neck and strangle the life from her.

I have two days. Two long days in which I need to fool Miss Ward into thinking I’m breaking the girl in front of me, but secretly I’ll be keeping her safe. I’ve already laid down the law that I’m the only person who will be allowed in the room with her. I can’t risk a soldier getting too excited at the prospect of a new girl and taking what he wants from her. The bruising I see between her legs already tells me she’s been sexually assaulted before she was even brought into this building. Was this how Mara looked when they brought her here? After I walked away from her and submitted to the rules of this place, thinking I would be saving her?

I inhale in a hissing breath and step into the room. The girl instantly looks up at me, her sorrow-filled eyes fill with fear, the rims red from crying. She’s pale and tired. Dark circles under her eyes allude to the fact that her nightmares have prevented sleep for a long time now. Her mouth opens to plead with me not to hurt her, but she already knows it will be futile.

She should be a slave now, a whore to the men who fight with implants in the back of their skulls. Except she won’t be. I won’t allow it to happen. Samara knows I have two days, that’s all. Friday at midday I need to have this girl ready. Samara won’t let me down because she knows the torment the broken shell of a woman in front of me will go through. Samara won’t let another woman suffer the same fate she did. It hits me, and the ache in my chest deepens so much I have to rub my hand over my heart.

In two days, this will be over.

I could have my life back—one with the woman I love. Or I’ll be rotting at the bottom of the ocean, and everything around me will continue. No, the latter isn’t an option. It’s not going to happen.