Crimson Truth (Onyx Assassins 4)

Mother blinked several times, returning from whatever spiral she’d just been down. “You are nothing,” she spat. “You are no longer my daughter. You are no longer worthy to wear the witch queen heiress title. You’re an abomination and I’m disgraced to have ever called you mine.” She flung her arm my direction, her power hitting me like a backhand.

Blood trickled from my nose from the hit, and I fired back with my own wave of power.

She barely flinched.

The wealth of power I had, and it was no match for hers.

It didn’t stop me from trying.

I wove my hands, drawing a ball of energy between them and spelling it with the force of a Mack truck. I hurled it at her chest, too bright and too fast for her to block it. It hit its mark, but she only stumbled back a few steps, the neckline of her gown singed from the power.

“How dare you try to defy me!” she yelled, her voice echoing off the walls. Her power rolled off her in waves, and I hated that mine trembled from the strength of it.

I soared across the room, my spine smacking against the farthest wall so hard stars burst behind my eyes.

“You ungrateful little wretch,” she hissed as she stomped across the room toward me. “How could you betray me like this? How could you mate one of those vile creatures?”

“Careful,” I warned, gathering to my feet and throwing another wave of power her way. Her head smacked back with a satisfying crack, but it only made fury light up her eyes. “Careful how you speak about my mate.”

She laughed then, a sadistic, terrifying laugh.

I tried again, wanting to hit her hard enough to subdue her. Hard enough to buy me time to call for Benedict and the Order and have them bring her in for questioning. I threw a sleeping spell at her, but she waved it away like I’d tossed a flower at her instead of a hard-as-hell spell.

“So sad,” she said, and curled her hands into claws, her power spearing through my defenses and latching onto my throat with a too-tight grip. I floundered as she propelled me off the floor, hovering me before her as she squeezed the breath from my lungs. “You could’ve been the best of us.” She shook her head, twisting her other hand in circular motions, and my breastbone cracked.

I tried to scream, but her power’s grip on my throat was too much.

She twisted those fingers again, and three of my ribs broke.

Tears streamed from my eyes, the pain like lightning in my head.

My power rose and thrashed but she deflected every single time.

Black popped at the edge of my vision, but I could still see her smile.

My own mother. She was draining me, breaking me bone by bone, and she was happy about it.

Whatever was left of my heart broke into a thousand pieces.

“Your sister will be devastated to find out you played too close to a lycan and it destroyed you.” Another flick of her hand, and my shin snapped in two.

I cried out, a silent scream against the choking. Pain became a living, breathing thing in my body. She already had an explanation for my death. A lie to tell my sister, and I wasn’t even dead yet.

Luna. No, she’d be left to live under our horrible mother’s rule?

No, I can’t—

Four more snaps rattled in my head, a white-hot pain shooting up my spine as she broke my arms. I blacked out, then came back, my vision wobbling from blissful darkness to the painful present.

Mother stepped toward me, close enough to kiss my wet cheek. Wasn’t she supposed to heal my wounds? Hold me when I cried? Help me when my heart was broken? Instead, she was the source and wielder of my pain and sorry, and she delighted in it. I’d never seen or felt anything more evil and…

I wasn’t enough.

I wasn’t strong enough to stop her.

I knew that as sure as I knew I was dying.

“Goodbye,” she said, and then my body flew through the window next to the throne, the bits of glass shattering from my impact, slicing into my skin.

Her power wrapped around me like a beacon, spearing me across the land toward lycan territory. And I knew, I knew I’d be dead once I hit the ground, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of him.

Benedict.

My mate.

My friend.

My love.

I lied. I’m sorry. Don’t trust my mother.

With what little life I had left in me, I sent those thoughts, those feelings hurling down the bond I could still feel between us. The one riddled in pain but no less bright. Goddess, I hoped he’d understand somehow. Hoped he’d know I didn’t mean what I’d said, that I’d only been protecting him from my mother. Because I’d known the second I sensed her power that if she had still been there, she would’ve slaughtered him too.