She smirks. “It’s justice.”

I shake my head. “You’re fucking sick. Go to a therapist and grieve like a normal person.”

“You do not understand my pain,” Deedee hisses. “I lost my sister and my mother.”

“Maybe not, but I’m not going around murdering babies because someone I care about dies after casting a curse to kill krakens and all sea life in the area.” She has to realize how fucked up this is. “It’s over. They’ve learned their lesson. They’ve suffered enough. This ends now.”

Scoffing, she paces the soiled room. “Oh, it’s not enough. All their deaths will be on your hands too.” She points at me. “They might not be as bloody as mine, but you’ll be a killer like me. That little tattoo you let me put on your back?” She taps the side of her ribs where she has the same leaf motif. “The one we both have? You’re wearing the Curse.”

A cold chill races down my spine. “The destined bride,” I echo.

I was never chosen by the Goddess. I was chosen by her.

Deedee nods. “Now you’re getting it. If the monster thinks you’re his mate, it’s only because his magic recognizes the Curse pumping through your veins.”

Bile curdles up my throat. It was all a lie.

“Whoever wears the mark is the one the kraken king must marry to end the Curse. They’d have to marry the thing they hate most, the kind they see as weak and lesser.” Deedee laughs. “I thought it was an amazing idea.”

I breathe hard through my mouth. “Why me?” I croak.

Did she sense the blood already soaking my hands? Did she see me and decide I didn’t suffer enough with Tommy?

“I needed a bride, and you were available.” She shrugs. “You looked like you were running from an army of demons, and I had the means to make you stay on the mainland. Control you. Monitor you. You hardly left the house, so when would you get the chance to run into him? I figured if the Curse didn’t eat your life force after a year, your demons would end you so I could transfer the Curse to the next naive girl. I didn’t mind those odds.”

Eat my life force?

The corners of my vision go blurry with rage. Deedee’s the reason I’ve been growing increasingly tired. It’s not stress, it’s her. God, I want to fucking kill her. “Why didn’t you put it on some random tourist who’ll return to their country and never come back?”

Her smile is sadistic. “Because the further they are from the Dead Lands—love that name, by the way, my idea too—the slower the Curse progresses. And you’ve been right here, pushing the Curse along at breakneck speed. Good job.”

“And now you’re going to kill me.” So children can die. So she can pass the Curse to someone else, wipe out an entire population, and destroy miles upon miles of land so it’s forever uninhabitable.

I twist my hands and thrash against the bindings. I need to get out of here.

“It’s nothing personal, darling. You were kinda okay to be around, I guess, but I can’t let you break the Curse.” Deedee huffs. “I must admit, it was cute seeing you worry about the pirates. You were so blind, it was almost endearing.”

I still, internal temperature plummeting. “What?” I breathe.

“Darling, I am the pirates. So is Nat.”

What? No. “But—but they stole⁠—”

She nods. “For me, yes. I have another factory—a bigger one. I knew you would never have agreed to work alongside the men, but I wanted your brains. Your ignorance was a bonus.” I hate the look of pity she’s giving me.

That—that can’t be right. “The machines had a fifty percent success rate⁠—”

“Don’t look so confused. You were always holed up in your house and fell for whatever we told you.”

Swallowing, I read between the lines. “You were undercutting me.” There I go again, proving I learned nothing. I fell for Tommy’s tricks, and I fell for Deedee’s.

I try hard to imagine a reality in which Ordus might only be using me for his own personal gain, but I don’t see it.

“It’s just business.” She ambles over to the table and waves at the items on it. “Do you have a preference? Bullet to the head? Knife across your throat? I can arrange to have you drowned, if that’s what you prefer, so you can be reunited with the kraken. It’d be romantic⁠—”

Screaming starts before I can answer, followed by a gunshot, then a bark.

Then a familiar, deafening roar rattles the walls.

He’s come for me.

The cacophony of ensuing sounds renders me frozen as my eyes slide to Deedee, gun in her hand, sights trained on the door.

Fuck. She’s going to kill him.

I struggle against the bindings. Deedee launches over to me before I can break free of the ropes. The wooden chair skitters back against the bloodstained floor, a low screech against the battle cries and snarls rattling the thin walls. My seat teeters on two legs before falling as the back of my head crashes onto the concrete floor. White light bursts behind my eyes as a scream tears from my throat.

Deedee reaches for me.

“No!” The syllable comes out garbled. I blindly kick out, unseeing, gasping for breath against the pain radiating through my skull. My heel makes contact with bone, then a body topples onto me. Something clatters to the side.

“Bitch!” Knuckles collide with my cheek.

My head whips to the side as my arms scrape against the floor. She tries to scramble upright, reaching for the gun several feet from us.

“Fuck you,” I hiss, driving my knee up.

She tips forward, straddling me, her legs on either side of my body. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” she screeches. Talons wrap around my throat in a bruising grip, cutting off my oxygen.

I sputter and cough, attempting to jerk away. My surroundings blur, deaf to the sounds of death and destruction. Black spots mar my dwindling vision. Fatigue sinks past flesh and bone, burrowing deep into my marrow, spreading its poison to every corner of my body.

Air slams into my lungs at the same time a loud boom shotguns through the room. Then a roar—a thundering crack so loud, I expect a blast of fire to follow. Yet all that’s there is him, standing before the broken doorway, crowding the room with his presence until it feels too cramped to move an inch. His shoulders are wide, tentacles suspended in the air, coiled to strike. The heat of his rage bursts from him in violent shockwaves that rip through my flesh.

Deedee drops her full weight onto the hands around my throat, and they’re ripped away just as fast.

Everything happens so quickly, my brain and eyes experience a three-second lag. A ball of yellow and cherry brown comes flying out of nowhere and latches onto Deedee’s limb. Crimson explodes throughout the room, spraying the walls, the floor, my bruised skin in putrid warmth. The walls bleed with each body part ripped to shreds.

And then I feel it.

The pressing, cloying weight on my chest, like a living entity taking its first breath, a sickly puff of condensation rolling down my spine. It pulses. A thud. A shattered heartbeat right up against my own struggling one.

My limbs are weak, broken without real breaks, muscles atrophied without the passage of time. A presence leeches me of life and warmth.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispers. Not my own, but someone else’s. Hers. Them. The Witch and Deedee.

The Curse made to be carried by two. It’s been transferred to one.

I’m going to die.

OceanofPDF.com

32

Cindi

Ordus whispers words I can’t make out as I slip in and out of consciousness.

I feel it. It’s hungry, ravenous. A beast wanting both slaughter and rest.

The moon shines overhead, bright and not quite full. It hides behind the trees we’re darting past. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I blacked out in the room. Minutes. Maybe an hour. Could be longer.