Hearts Return - Dark Heart 3

Sterek.

Fuck.

It was he. Even with his burns, I knew him. Knew those eyes. Burning eyes. Burned eyes.                      

How is here? How is he even alive?

I left them drugged before torching the place, all of them. All but that bastard mother was taking to bed. Him I made certain of. Should’ve made certain of them all.

My fingers twitch as I remember the feel of his fat neck, his eyes bulging, his tongue protruding; remember air and blood whistling out his slit throat. I liked his face better that way. Better than when I’d wake to find it leering over me...

One of the other girls stumbles over a stone in the lane back to the villa and jostles me with her basket. She turns – probably means to blame me, the self-righteous, clumsy cow – then she catches my expression and scurries away, blanching. Like a little white mouse. Run away little mouse. Squeak squeak.

Still, I lower my face. Can’t let them see that anything’s wrong.

Never let anyone see that something’s wrong.

But how? How did Sterek even find me? They should have assumed I was dead. He should be dead, or still back home and ignorant, not swinging a weapon at me in an alleyway.

The wedding. Of course.

He must be here for the damn competition. Guess he’s still strumming that wretched mandolin and mewling after the village girls. I wonder if he has to wear a mask now.

That’s it, then. He came up for that and saw me in town. Never would have happened if it weren’t for the competition, if it weren’t for this wedding.

If it weren’t for Immalaine.

That bitch. That sniveling, oh-I’m-so-sweet, little miss perfect bitch. She’s ruining everything. First Sallastin; now this. She’s led Sterek here and set him after me, like a slack-faced hound baying after a fox. Bitch.

A shout from up ahead: the housekeeper yelling at me to hurry. I realize I’ve lagged behind. She’s scowling at me, fists on her over-abundant hips.

Hurry? I’ll show her hurry. Strip her naked some foggy night, cover her in lard, and set her loose to try to jiggle her way out of the darkest alleyways of Bree... yeah, that’d teach her hurry.

But I make a show of hastening the last several yards, give her my best apologetic smile as I duck through the postern gate. See, just another harmless little mouse here. Squeak.

Mouse? No. Fox. Sly fox. Darts and turns and foils the stupid dogs.

But my hands are trembling as I head inside. Sterek will be looking for me now; in the village, at the wedding. I’m no longer safe.

And that leering look on his ruined face: it reminded me of step-father’s, in my bedroom. Only Sterek means me worse; means to kill me.

Not if I kill him first. Him and the bitch who called him here. Yes. Sterek and Immalaine. Kill them both. Yes.

I can’t do it openly. Sallastin is watching, always watching. But I’m clever. I’ll find a way.

Because I’m no longer a mouse.

Fuck them all.