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Chapter 3
Grayson dropped me off at Highridge Monastery Retreat, spun the car around, and vanished without a second glance.
He never noticed the fear in the retreat leader’s eyes.
The iron gate slammed shut behind me with a heavy clang.
A group of men slouched out from the shadows, cigarettes hanging from their lips, wearing sick smiles that made my skin crawl.
“Well, well… Look who’s back. Missed us, sweetheart?” The one in front gave his belt a tug
“Didn’t get enough last time?” another said, reaching for my collar. “Don’t worry–we’ll make you feel real welcome.”
“Quit stalling. Take it off!” a third snarled, already fumbling with his belt buckle.
Their breath grew louder, heavier. I kept my head down, body coiled tight like a spring.
I didn’t move.
The third man laughed and cracked a leather whip against the ground. The sound snapped through the air like a gunshot.
“Still got that attitude, huh?” he spat. “Maybe a beating will fix it.”
The whip lashed out toward me.
I caught it. Midair. Barehanded.
He froze, stunned.
I yanked hard.
He stumbled forward–and I slapped him.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Chapter 3
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Slap, Slap. Slap.
The sound of palm against skin echoed like a drumroll across the stone courtyard.
The others laughed at first.
“Caleb, you serious? Can’t even handle a girl?”
Then Caleb turned toward them, face ballooned and bloodied, teeth rattling loose in his mouth.
The laughter died.
Silence dropped like a curtain.
Then the retreat leader screamed, panicked. “That’s Lily Moore! She’s supposed to be dead!”
Every head turned toward the ground.
Toward my feet.
Where my shadow lay sharp and solid beneath the noon sun.
“Shit,” someone whispered. “She’s alive.”
The thug leader spat, straightened his back. “So what? She’s just a woman. She can’t do anything.”
They stepped forward, cracking their knuckles, grinning like predators.
They had no idea.
I kept my head down, lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile.
They didn’t know what I was. Didn’t know what I’d done. Didn’t know what I was capable of.
I was born different. Strong. Dangerous. The kind of dangerous that wiped out an entire family when I was twelve.
Violence runs in my blood.
If it hadn’t been for Lily… I never would’ve held back.
But now?
There was nothing left to hold me.
The screams lasted through the monastery for three days. This mountain retreat was built for silence. No one could hear them. No one came.
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When Grayson finally returned, Highridge Monastery was nothing but a smoking ruin.
Ash clung to the air like fog.
I sat at the edge of the rubble, crouched low, covered in soot. My clothes hung off me in tatters. My face was smeared with ash, and dried blood crusted under every fingernail.
Grayson tossed a coat at me, wrinkling his nose. “Disgusting.”
Aubrey swept past, pausing just long enough to hiss into my ear, “Why didn’t you die in the fire?”
I didn’t answer.
I curled into the backseat, shivering on purpose.
Blood had soaked into my sleeves. Their blood.
Their screams still echoed in my head–deliciously raw.
The way they begged? That was the best part.
Especially when I used the mallet to strike.
Holy men should’ve been clean. Untouchable. Now their bones were shattered and raw–just like
Lily’s.
I pictured their faces, melting in the fire. Their mouths open in pain. Their eyes wide with terror. And for the first time in days…
I smiled.
Chapter 3
