Exile (Dance with my Demons #4)

by Steph Macca

Run, little killer. We like to chase our prize before we claim it.

That's my fucking wife. Smiling, I move onto the next guard closest to me, splattering him against the wall with a loud sickening crack before he drops, motionless.

I always said that if people saw me as the villain, then I'd be their fucking villain.

In violence and corruption, I found an unexpected peace. An inferno of flames in an otherwise dark abyss—someone to dance with my demons.

For the first time since my mother died, I experienced love again—even if I didn't want it. Her vibrant light choked me, wrapping around my black heart like barbed wire, ripping me apart, until finally, she cracked me wide open. In my own personal hell, I found her. Avery. For the first time, someone saw me as more than their savior. More than a leader and someone to fear. She wanted to save… me. So now, it's only fitting that I should die for her. Chapter

I have to get out of this fucking room. Now.

"It was an accident. It was self-defense. My hand slipped because they were attacking us. We had no choice—it was life or death. I tripped over. I was pushed. He was coming for me."

We could have played rock paper scissors to decide who gets to marry her, even if I'd be awfully tempted to chop off their hands to win by default. Regardless,

I can punch just as well with my non-dominant one—Ambidextrous overachiever of vengeance.

Except this time, it's different. I'm covered in my husband's blood. My husband.

I'm married to Damon. The man who haunted my nightmares and my daydreams. The one who, not too long ago, made me fear for my life. Who promised me nothing but pain and suffering.

Married to the very one who saved me from a fate worse than death.

Lilydale promised to save me, even when I adamantly believed I was beyond salvation. But in a strange turn of events, I was saved. By Grey. By Theo. And by Damon.

Damon is the glue that holds us together—the foundation of support while Grey and Theo are my pillars of strength.

My new father-in-law wanted to kill me—and not in the hilarious in-law fashion that people joke about. Actually murder me—and his own son.

I guess, bloodied knuckles aside, maybe I could have a career as a doctor. Likes blood—check. Remains somewhat calm in an emergency—check. Able to remove limbs—double check.

"No, but she's his everything, Christopher. She's his reason to live, to fight. Just like she's mine. He has to be okay. There's no other option here."

"Maybe that can be your Christmas present," she murmurs. "A little murder goes well with mistletoe."

"And then I'd be forced to kill your cousin," Theo interjects. "No one looks or breathes at her, let alone hears about her body." "Fucking psycho," I mutter quietly.

"And afterwards, I think we should take a quick trip to the library, little killer. You know… for dessert."