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He’s right about the other part, too. I could have hunted the princes months ago. I didn’t want to. They changed me. Before the rape, I was good, genuinely never had a mean thought. If I hurt someone, it was by accident and I felt bad about it. But when they were done with me, there was something new inside me: something ruthless and feral and beyond law that hungered to be the one perpetrating the savagery, because when you are the savage, no one messes with you. I’d wanted to be bad. It’s safer to be bad.
When someone hurts you—and I’m not talking about forgivable offenses, some things are irrevocable and demand recompense—you have two choices: slice them out of your life or slice them into delicious, bloody pieces. While the latter would be infinitely more satisfying in an immediate, animalistic way, it changes you. And, although you think the memory of the battle won will be a pleasure—if it is a pleasure, you’ve lost the war.
They raped me. I survived. I moved on. I wanted someone else to be the animal I didn’t want to become. I could have cold-bloodedly stalked into their goth mansion months ago. I would have enjoyed mutilating and torturing them, killing them slowly. Savored every minute of it. Painted my face with their blood, reveling in my dominance. But it wouldn’t have been a sheepdog that walked out that gothic, towering front door. It would have been a wolf. “Wolves don’t kill with hate,” Barrons says. “They kill because it’s what they do.” “What are you saying?” “Only humans kill with hate. When you kill,
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Two of the princes who raped me are dead, their heads lying at my feet. The third one, Dani killed months ago. The fourth one—about whom Barrons knows nothing—is imprisoned behind bars of ice. I have a bad feeling if he ever gets out, I might grow those fangs I don’t want. “The princess is waiting for their heads,” Barrons says. “She will not give us Christian’s precise location until she receives them.” I sigh and say something I never thought I’d hear myself say to a completely, beautifully, naked Barrons. “Get dressed. I’m ready.” As he leaves the room, I glance at the severed heads, the
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The Unseelie Princess sifts in, snatches the princes’ heads, and sifts out before my brain manages to process what my eyes just saw. “Son of a bitch,” Barrons snarls. “Don’t make me hunt you, Princess,” Ryodan warns softly. “You’ll become my sole target, my obsession, my compulsion, my undying homicidal fantasy, the object of my every fucking thought and inclination, and the more time I have to contemplate what I’m going to do to you when I find you—”
“Dreitorspitze,”
“Dreitorspitze,”
Dreitorspitze is a large and very prominent, multi-peak mountain massif in the eastern part of the Wetterstein Mountains in southern Germany. It is divided into Partenkirchen Dreitorspitze (German: Partenkirchener Dreitorspitze) at 2,633 metres (8,638 ft) and Leutasch Dreitorspitze (German:Leutascher Dreitorspitze) at 2,682 metres (8,799 ft); each of which has several peaks. The main peak of the fourth highest mountain massif in Germany is the Leutasch Dreitorspitze, which is also known as the Karlspitze. The Dreitorspitze marks the spot where the main chain of the Wetterstein mountains changes direction from its primary east-west orientation to run northwards for a short distance, before turning back again onto its main axis. East of the Dreitorspitze lies the karst plateau of the Leutasch Platt, comparable to the Zugspitzplatt at the foot of the Zugspitze.
The only thing that keeps us rooted in the past is our refusal to embrace the present.
I can almost see the old Dani flashing me a gamine grin and saying, Dude, you gotta hug it with both arms and legs and hold on tight! The present is all we’ve got. That’s why they call it a present!
