Reclamation, page 8
He soaked up the attention, eyes glittering as he raised a glass above his head.
“To my esteemed investors!” he boomed. “Your loyalty is rewarded tonight! Every bid builds our legacy—proof of wealth, power, and purpose!”
The crowd roared back at him.
But I wasn’t listening.
My hands were already curling into fists.
Because I knew what was coming.
Magnus turned slowly, grinning like a vulture with a silver crown.
“Before we begin the final round of bids…” he said, smooth as sin, “allow me to introduce my new bride.”
The doors behind him opened.
And time stopped.
Everly stepped through.
Draped in soft silk the color of smoke, collar gleaming like a brand at her throat. Her hair was down. Her eyes—God, those eyes—still green, still burning, even if the fire had dimmed behind ‘em. She walked like her feet barely touched the ground, like every step cost her something.
But she walked.
She stood.
Even bruised. Even shackled. Even dressed like some twisted gift wrapped in lace—
She was still Everly.
And my breath caught in my throat like a prayer I couldn’t finish.
The room reacted before I could. A gasp swept through the bidders like they’d just seen a goddess strung up on a pedestal.
“Five thousand!” someone shouted.
“Six!”
“Ten!”
And then—quiet, low, greedy—
“One angel feather,” said a voice near the front.
I didn’t even hear the next number.
Because I was already breaking inside.
I stared at her like a man starving to death. Not just from need—but from guilt. From rage. From the ache that had been chewing through me since the day she was taken.
I’d come here dressed like them. Pretending to be one of them. To get close.
But now?
Now I was seconds away from tearing this room apart with my bare damn hands.
She hadn’t seen me yet.
But I saw her.
And I knew one thing, clear as blood on snow:
No one was touching her.
Not now.
Not ever.
Magnus laughed.
Low. Mocking. It rolled through the auction hall like a funeral bell tolling for the damned.
“A Purifier,” he said, like her holiness was a joke. “A treasure from the old world… and now, mine.” He raised his glass again. “She’s not up for sale.”
The crowd roared.
Cheers, applause, whistles.
But all I heard was my own heartbeat.
A thudding drum, steady and deadly. Drowning everything else out.
I didn’t think.
Didn’t plan.
Didn’t breathe.
I moved.
The mask dropped. The silk façade split clean down the middle. And the thing beneath—the thing they made me into—rose to the surface like it’d been waiting.
I surged forward.
Fast as shadow. Loud as judgment.
The first guard didn’t even have time to blink.
My hand shot out, claws bursting through my fingertips as I caught him by the throat. He gurgled. Kicked. Blood ran down my wrist as I slammed him into the nearest column. The crunch echoed like bone snapping beneath thunder.
Someone screamed.
Too late.
The moment Magnus called her his—called Everly a thing to be owned—every chain I’d held onto snapped.
I spun as two more guards pulled weapons. Their eyes wide. Hands shaking.
They fired.
Too slow.
The bullets flew through air where I’d been a heartbeat before.
I was already on them.
“Demon!” one of them screamed.
Damn right.
I caught his arm mid-swing and wrenched it sideways until his shoulder gave way with a sickening pop. His gun clattered to the floor, useless. The other tried to run.
I let him get two steps.
Then I was there.
Fangs bared, I grabbed the back of his neck, yanked him close, and sank my teeth into his throat. Warm blood flooded my mouth—metallic and bitter, and exactly what he deserved. His legs buckled. His body dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.
Chaos ignited.
More guards rushed in from the wings, shouting orders. Guns raised. More screams—some from buyers, some from girls still chained on the stage.
I didn’t stop.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
I ripped through them.
They fired. The bullets sparked off my skin. Some bit in—most didn’t matter. Pain was nothing. Not compared to this. Not compared to what they’d done to her. To Everly.
I was fire.
I was wrath.
I grabbed one by the collar, dragged him in close, close enough for him to smell the smoke and blood on my breath.
“Run,” I whispered.
And then I tore his throat out.
My laugh followed him down.
Loud.
Cruel.
Unholy.
Because I wasn’t just here to save her.
I was here to burn it all down.
For Everly.
For every girl they’d ever sold.
For every scream no one listened to.
And I wasn’t stopping until Magnus Rex was dead at my feet and every gilded wall in this palace of nightmares came crashing down.
I tore through the hall like a storm let loose from Heaven’s deepest pit.
Guards screamed. Guests fled. The air reeked of fear and blood, and I breathed it in.
One swung at me—a clean-shaven man in a silver coat who probably thought his coin made him immortal. I caught his wrist mid-swing and twisted. Bone cracked. He screamed. I shoved him to the ground and kept moving… after snapping his neck.
Another guard raised his rifle—I ripped it from his hands and drove the barrel through his skull. Blood sprayed like ink from a broken pen, splattering the marble floor that had once gleamed for monsters.
I stepped over a man in a velvet suit, his throat sliced clean, his hands still clutched around a numbered paddle.
No pity.
No hesitation.
Just a trail of bodies in my wake.
My boots left red prints where once there had been white stone. Perfume still clung to the air, mixed with the iron tang of spilled blood. A grotesque bouquet, sweet and wrong.
The girls ran. God, they ran—bolting past toppled chairs and broken chains, bare feet slapping the floor as they fled into the night. No one stopped them. Not a soul tried. Not even the guards. They were too busy trying to outrun me.
Good.
Let them run.
Let them live.
I wasn’t here for them.
I was here for him.
Magnus Rex stood at the far end of the room like a man watchin’ his kingdom burn. Rage twisted his face into something unrecognizable. His wives huddled behind him like delicate things—like porcelain masks with knives behind their eyes.
“Kill him!” Magnus roared, spit flying, voice like venom in the air.
I kept walking.
No one moved.
Because they knew.
There was no killing me.
Not tonight.
I was too far gone.
I was what came after justice stopped knocking.
And then—just as I lunged for him—it hit me.
A snap of pain in my ribs. Cold fire pouring through my veins.
I stumbled back a half-step and looked down.
A syringe.
Stuck deep in my side.
Magnus stood smug, holding a modified injector—military-grade. Demon-tested.
“Did you really think you could take everything from me?” He sneered, eyes gleaming with triumph. “You think I don’t prepare for things like you?”
My breath hitched. Vision blurred. The world swayed—but I stayed on my feet.
Barely.
Rage… was stronger than whatever poison he shoved in my veins.
I lunged.
Caught one of his wives by the arm as she stepped forward, caught between awe and terror. Her lips parted like she might speak, and for a breath, our eyes locked.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Too late.
My hand crushed her windpipe before the words could settle in the air.
Her body crumpled.
Magnus didn’t even blink.
He raised the injector again.
I caught her corpse mid-fall and shoved it between us—just as he fired.
The dart struck flesh.
Hers.
Not mine.
Blood spilled down my arms. I let her fall. Her body hit the floor like a dropped doll, limp and ruined.
And I stepped through it.
Straight toward him.
Something inside me cracked wide open.
There wasn’t a man left in me.
Not anymore.
Just fire.
Just vengeance.
And nothing—not God, not poison, not death itself—was going to stop me now.
Chapter 9
Everly
I stood on the dais, heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned out the chaos erupting around me. What had once been a gilded prison now smoldered with fire and panic, a symphony of screams replacing the whispers of greed and lust. Heat kissed my skin, sweat mixing with ash. The collar around my neck felt tighter with every breath.
Smoke curled around the ceiling like serpents, rising past chandeliers that had once sparkled with wealth and now looked ready to fall. The drapes burned first—fine velvet turned to ribbons of flame—and somewhere beneath it all; I heard the groaning of old wood giving way.
The air tasted like metal and fire.
I couldn’t move.
My bare feet gripped the polished marble like it might anchor me, but the world was spinning, cracking beneath me. My hands trembled at my sides, the silk of the dress like oil against my skin—slick, foreign, wrong.
Where was Magnus?
His voice had been in my ear moments ago, whispering sick promises, curling around me like chains.
But now?
Now there was only the roar of fire, the thunder of collapsing walls, the shriek of men dying.
And then—
Through the smoke—
I saw him.
My breath caught like a hook in my lungs.
He stepped through the chaos, shoulders squared, blood on his hands. His coat was gone. His eyes glowed red through the haze. He looked like something the world should fear.
Walton.
Every part of me snapped to attention.
He moved like death with purpose—fast, fluid, merciless. Bodies scattered in his wake. Firelight danced off his skin like it knew better than to touch him.
My knees nearly buckled at the sight of him. I hadn’t dreamed this—not even in the depths of hope where I’d buried myself. But here he was, tearing the world down around me just to reach me.
Our eyes locked.
For one second, everything fell away—the heat, the screams, the weight of the collar on my throat. I felt like I could breathe again.
But then—
Magnus’s hand clamped around my arm like a vice, digging into bone, and I choked on a gasp as he yanked me hard against him. I stumbled, my body colliding with his—hot, solid, and suffocating. His touch made my skin crawl. I thrashed, but his grip only tightened, bruising me like he meant to leave a mark behind.
He leaned in close, his breath reeking of liquor and blood, and hissed into my ear, “I’ll kill him before I let you go.”
The words scraped down my spine like ice.
Behind me—I could feel him. Walton. His fury beat through the air like a drum, louder than the screams, hotter than the fire. It burned at my back, called to every shattered piece of me. But I couldn’t get to him. Not yet.
I was caught in the hands of a monster who wouldn’t let go.
Magnus began dragging me backward—toward the balcony, toward some twisted escape plan or final stage. I didn’t know. The floor trembled under us. The flames danced closer. Smoke choked the light from the air, and bodies fell behind us like dominos.
I twisted in his grip, nails raking against his sleeve. “Let me go!”
He only laughed, low and dark and cruel. “Oh, sweet Everly. You think this is about letting go?”
He jerked me forward—hard—using me like a shield. I stumbled again, the collar around my neck biting into my skin. My eyes flicked past his shoulder, scanning the shadows, looking for—
There.
Walton was moving, steady and furious, eyes locked on me like I was the only thing left holding him to this world.
“Stop!” I screamed, my voice cracking from the smoke. “Don’t come any closer!”
My words shattered against the flames, but he heard me—I knew he did.
Magnus pulled me closer, arm winding around my middle now, his mouth close to my temple. “You think he can save you?” he spat. “You think he’ll make it in time?”
I didn’t think.
I acted.
I drove my heel down into his foot with every ounce of strength I had left.
He screamed—a snarl of pain—and his grip faltered.
And that was all I needed.
His grip faltered—just a breath, just enough.
I didn’t hesitate.
I wrenched free, twisting low, heart hammering like a war drum. I ducked out of his reach, my bare feet sliding on marble slick with blood and ash. My body screamed from the impact, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.
And then—
Bang.
The sound tore through the air like a crack of thunder, louder than the fire, sharper than any scream.
I spun around just in time to see Magnus jerk violently, his body contorting as the bullet tore into his shoulder. His scream was raw, animalistic—a sound ripped from the throat of something dying and angry about it.
Walton stood behind the smoke, weapon still raised, breath heaving. His eyes locked on mine—fierce, wild, burning with something that made my knees weaken.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Only me.
Magnus staggered back, clutching his shoulder, and with a grunt, he tried to reach for me. I dropped hard, my knees slamming against the stone, the breath punched from my lungs.
But Walton was already moving.
I didn’t even have time to gasp his name before he was on me—rushing forward like the whole world had narrowed down to one goal: me.
“Everly!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. I scrambled up, legs shaking, and then—he grabbed me.
His arms wrapped around me, hot and solid and real. I collapsed against him, choking back the sob that surged up my throat.
He didn’t say anything else. He turned, dragging me with him, his body a shield between me and the burning world behind us.
I looked back just once.
Magnus was down on one knee, blood dripping from his shoulder, his face twisted into a snarl that promised he wasn’t done. But it didn’t matter. Because Walton didn’t even look back. His hand was wrapped around mine, firm and unshakable.
“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice low and thunderous. “No matter what. We keep moving.”
We ran.
Through fire.
Through smoke.
Through the crumbling bones of everything Magnus Rex had built.
And with every step, the collar around my neck felt a little looser. The darkness behind me felt a little smaller.
Because I wasn’t alone anymore.
He’d come for me.
And together—we were getting out.
I could still feel it—
Magnus’s grip, bruising and burning on my arm like it had left a ghost behind.
His laughter rang in my ears like a curse, even as I ran.
But then there was Walton.
His hand in mine. His presence like a wall between me and the nightmare still burning behind us.
The fire raged, casting long, monstrous shadows that chased us down the corridor. The walls glowed orange, smoke thick enough to choke every breath.
“Move!” he barked, voice raw from smoke and fury.
I stumbled after him, my legs aching, lungs on fire. My heart beat so loud it nearly drowned out the roar behind us.
The hallway twisted ahead, narrow and slick. Blood streaked the floor. The scent of it—metallic and scorched—clung to everything.
I risked a glance back.
Shadows surged in the smoke.
The guards were regrouping. I saw flashes of steel, heard the slam of boots on marble. They were coming. Fast. Too fast.
“We won’t make it,” I breathed.
“We will,” Walton growled, his hand crushing mine as he pulled me down another hall. “Trust me.”
Walton shoved the gun into my hands.
The metal was cold—heavier than I remembered. It bit into my palms like it knew I didn’t belong holding it.
“Remember how to use that?” he asked, voice low but unshakable.
I looked up into his eyes, saw the storm behind them—the urgency, the fire, the belief.
I nodded.
The memory came rushing back like a wave crashing against a crumbling wall: Walton teaching me how to shoot a meal. “Breathe. Aim. Don’t hesitate.”
I could do this.
I had to.
His gaze cut through me, and I swallowed hard, nodding again.
We ran.
The corridor twisted ahead, long and dark and suffocating. Our footsteps thundered against the stone like a war drum. Behind us—shouts. Metal clanging. Boots slamming into the ground. The compound wasn’t done with us yet.
Then—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Gunfire cracked through the air like lightning.
I screamed as Walton jerked beside me, his arm snapping back.
He grunted, pain flashing over his face—but he didn’t stop. He just pushed me behind him, blood dripping down his sleeve as he raised his weapon and fired without hesitation. One shot. Two. A scream followed.
