In the second I decided to head to that platform, someone shouted for the police, and a scream followed. It was one of those screams that told you something awful was happening. Something blood-curdling. And where blood-curdling was, you’d find my girl.
Before I even realized I was moving, Connor and I were hopping over the ticket gate, seeking out the commotion. People moved like the ocean, swirling throngs pushing towards or away from whatever the fuck was happening. More panicked faces and voices, the push and pull of scared crowds.
I knew. I knew it was about Violet. She was here, in the middle of it. And if Rafe had caught up to her, there was about to be a massacre. It would be a fucking disaster for him to have found her already, an unbelievable feat that would speak of a higher issue - if he was this close, this near to us so soon, who had told him? It would prove we couldn’t trust a soul. Not even Connor. Were we really that alone in all this? Not an ally between us?
My uncle trailed behind me, his eyes focused, not at all like a man who wasn’t acting in truth. But the feeling wouldn’t shake.
Did Rafael Delucci have desperate lackeys waiting at all the major transport hubs in the country? That was ridiculous. But I had to suppress the paranoia for now. We raced towards the yelling. It was indistinct screeches of concern, a woman bellowing not to do it, and my heart almost fucking stopped.
I turned the last corner onto the platform.
Just in time to see Violet in someone else’s grasp, hanging over the edge of the train platform, a glare in her eye that terrified me, even from all the way over here. It looked too much like resignation, determination for this to go no further. Her jaw set tense, her eyes vivid, alive, steadfast. No. No no no. It didn’t look like her giving up; it looked like her making a choice.
If she died… if she let go… I would be right fucking behind her. Fuck living this life without her. She was all it was worth. That shadow in her eye? I felt it too. There would be no question. There would be no more oxygen in my lungs if she left. No more breaths.
“Violet!” I screamed, my voice hoarse with desperation. I bellowed her name, aching to get through to her as I shoved every fucker out of the way, one track focused on reaching her, touching her, bringing her back from the brink. I heard Connor shouting, too. But the train was fucking here. The shriek as it rolled into the station, pulling the brakes, was the sound of the last moments of my life. If she fell…
I was in arms reach of her when she yanked and twisted, ducking at the last moment so the man holding her, who I recognized as one of Rafe’s top dogs, rolled over her body, the weight of him acting as momentum when she curled up into a ball, her face open in a scream. He tried to take her with him, but it was too late. Her shirt ripped from the force of his grasp, but she only wobbled. I yelled, and he fell over the platform.
Not a split-second later, the train struck his upside-down body, smashing into him before he’d even touched the track. Everything felt silent, just the whistling ringing in my ear. I’m sure there were screams of horror and terror, people vomiting and praying, shouts to get back from the edge, away from the gore. I’m sure the world hadn’t fallen quiet, not really, but my body, every single sensation and limb, was stuck on Violet. There was only silence in my head, in my world. Violet. I needed to get to Violet. She was so close to the edge.
Even as blood sprayed, viscera and guts splattered out to paint the train and the platform and the faces of the poor saps who stood too close, she hadn’t moved. Her mouth was open in a silent scream as her assailant’s blood dripped from her body, her clothes, her hair.
She collapsed the moment I reached her, her body slumping as I fell to my knees and tugged her away from the platform’s edge. The train was still moving; split seconds had passed, so it was still coming to a rolling stop just an inch behind my sister, shuddering and groaning as it slowed. My world. She was in front of me. Not under a train.
For a moment, I froze, too shocked, scared to move, to disturb this careful peace we shared. She was there, sobbing, her head on her knees, coated in that prick’s blood. My hands cupped her cheeks, and I forced her to look up. To study me, to understand that I was there for her. Make her see that her world hadn’t ended in that blink.
“Violet,” I muttered, uncaring about the commotion around us. Connor could deal with that, and I could hear that he was, shouting something I didn’t care to listen to with real strain in his voice. “Look at me.”
Her eyes zipped to mine, but they were scarily vacant. That violent determination gone, replaced with emptiness, a bleak hollowness that frightened me. I shook her, patted her cheek, squeezed her chin to get her awake. Back to me. I needed her back to me.
“Come on, beautiful, look at me, focus.” I wiped my thumb over a drip of blood on her cheek. Blood had caked her hair, and it streamed down her face like she was Carrie at the end of prom. Not an inch of her skin wasn’t coated in drying red. “He’s dead. You killed him.”
“You were going to…” she started, but her voice trailed off, eyes still glassy. “You…”
“I would never.” I kissed her, hard, on the mouth, yanking her to me and making her yelp. “I can explain. Please.”
She nodded, whispering, “I know, I know.” She blinked, crunched up her face, and I wondered what was going on inside her gorgeous head. It was conflicted, that’s for fucking sure. So I waited with the patience I wished to possess, unwilling to rush her despite the chaos behind me. I knew we didn’t have long; police, security, whoever the fuck would be here any second.
Connor’s voice in my ear, “We need to go. I’ve got us a couple of minutes to get out. Come on.”
I ignored him, shrugging him away when his hand landed on my shoulder to tug me away. Violet needed to process this. Here. Now. Moving might fuck her up forever. She needed this rebirth, in the blood of her attacker, she needed to rise above it.
A wickedness grew in me as I watched her expression harden, wake back up until her eyes were on me truly, alive and burning. That fire returned with a hot vengeance. And… I saw excitement. An awakening. Yes, fucking yes. My Violet.
“I killed him,” she said, like she was testing the words out. “Theo… I killed him. You know what he did to me?” I shook my head. “He hurt me, he… he joined in. With Rafe. He joined in. He liked it.” Her voice turned harder, her words spat. “I was tied up. And he liked it. He… he took from me. And he liked it. And now he’s dead.”
“Yes, sweetheart.” I stroked her face, relishing what she was discovering. My cock hardened as I watched her. Not what that prick did to her, not that. But that fire? That fire was delicious. “Yes.” I wanted to drown in it with her.
Her mouth opened, she took in a slow breath, her eyes wide. Her gaze dipped away for a moment before returning to me. “I’m going to kill them all.”
Two
Violet
I’vealwayslikedblood.
Ever since I was a little girl, since watching bruises form on skin or cuts scab over, it’s fascinated me. It didn’t have to be on myself; on others worked too, if not better. As a child, I spent most of my time imagining people dying, observing my mother across the dinner table and willing her knife to plunge into her throat. Seeing Father drive away and begging for his car to explode and spray pieces of him all over the driveway.
