Release In The Dark (DARK erotic romance series) (21 page)

And he never forgave himself,
and Irin, for it.

With a tormented breath, his
eyes fly open. He stares at me, his eyes raw and feverish. Gripping
my shoulders, he says in a ragged whisper, “Tonight. It ends.”
He releases me abruptly and walks away without looking back. “With
his death.”

I watch him walk away, stopping
a distance from me, keeping me well within his sight and earshot. I
consider going after him, but realize that he needs to be alone for
now.

He would prefer that I not go on
this mission. He is a trained Commander and rebel fighter. I am
not. I was exposed to hardship and harrowing conditions in the
factories that I worked in and in the Palace, but I was never trained
to fight. Except for the few weeks in the underground resistance
cell, where I was taught to shoot, and stab, and endure tortures.
Maybe Jaxon regards my presence as more of a hindrance than help in
this mission. Maybe he wants to yell some sense into me.

But I know that I can do this.
I have to do this.

If he stops me, I will go after
the Empress. Which will be much more dangerous.

Someone has got to pay.

I watch his fists clench and
unclench at his back, as he raises his head to stare up at the
towering, ancient tree before him. Finally, he turns around and he
meets my eyes through the gaps between the trees separating us from
each other. He takes one step, then another, slowing walking towards
me, yet the distance between us never seems to close.

I see the conflict and
indecision flickering momentarily in his brown eyes. As he nears me,
he blinks slowly and all that uncertainty and doubt is gone, in that
blink of his eye. He stands in front of me, tall, strong, resolved,
commanding.

“
Come, I will brief you on
the layout of the bunker...and what we have to do.”

His eyes are sharp and
appraising. He is looking at me not as my lover, but as my
Commander. A Commander who looks after his soldier, and makes sure
everyone comes out of the mission well and alive.

I nod, resisting the urge to
snap to attention and shout
Yes sir!

Now is not the time to joke and
fool around.

I cannot let him think that I am
unfit or unprepared for the mission. I am ready. I will see this
through—even if it kills me.

The forest ends where the
mountain begins. Jaxon leads me to a small cave at the side of the
mountain and ducks in. I follow him into the cave, keeping to the
shadows and trying not to breathe so loudly.

Jaxon has indeed committed to
memory the exact location of the Emperor's bunker, leading me
silently and swiftly away from booby traps and mines hidden along the
way. I stifle a scream when an animal snare snaps its rusty serrated
jaws shut just inches from my ankle. Jaxon whips round in a
heartbeat to catch me in his arms.

“
I'm fine,” I hiss.

He holds me for many more
thundering heartbeats before letting me go. There is no going back
now. We have journeyed too long and too far, and we are now so near.
Too near. Pressing a finger to his lips, he motions me forward and
points to the floor.

The trapdoor hidden at the very
corner in the floor of the cave blends in so seamlessly with the
surrounding rocks it is almost invisible. Crouching down, Jaxon
traces the outline of the door with his fingertips, his brows creased
in concentration. Giving me a quick nod, he brushes the sand and
dirt away to uncover a rusty iron handle. He grips it firmly in his
hands and strains to open the trapdoor. The door grinds open, and
Jaxon has to brace himself to stop the heavy door from slamming onto
the cave floor.

At his signal, we flatten
ourselves against the walls of the cave, our guns drawn, preparing
for enemy fire. Jaxon inches forward and with a soundless movement,
stands over the opening, his gun at the ready.

He frowns at the lack of sound
or movement from below. Cocking his head to the side, he listens to
the deathly silence as he lowers his body to a crouch. Peering down
for a quick check, he nods at me and lowers himself through the
trapdoor. I follow in his wake, and my boot finds the first rung of
a metal ladder. Treading lightly, I climb down and drop into a
sparsely furnished chamber. A naked bulb is buzzing overhead,
throwing its flickering dim light over the upturned chairs and
stained cups and bowls on a bare wooden table.

The bunker had been occupied,
but it seems that the occupants have left in a hurry. I swallow with
difficult, my throat feeling dry and tight. Are we too late? Have
they escaped?

I prick my ears at the small,
muffled sound coming from behind a small door to our side. Jaxon is
already pointing his gun at the door, eyes narrowed. Taking slow,
silent steps, he approaches the narrow door and eases it open.

I hear him inhale sharply before
moving further in. Hesitating for an instant, I glance over my
shoulder at the stale, abandoned chamber behind me. The spilled
water from an overturned cup is dripping down the side of the table.
The water looks clean and fresh. I have an odd feeling that if I
were to feel the seat of the chairs, I would find them still warm.
The chamber has been abandoned, but only just.

I step into the shadowy room
after Jaxon, and stop short in my tracks. The wheezing and
whimpering is louder and clearer now. I glimpse a jerking figure in
the middle of the room. The swaying, twisting figure is gasping and
coughing, and sputtering unintelligible words.

I force myself not to back away
as I raise my gun. “Jaxon...” I stammer. “W-where...”

The sharp click of a flashlight.

I squint and see Jaxon standing
to the side, training a flashlight at that swaying, spluttering
figure in the middle of the room.

“
That's...the Emperor!”
I gasp.

The Emperor is tied to a chair,
facing a camera, his mouth moving as blood trickles from his eyes,
nose, ears and mouth. His gilded royal garb is stained red, with
blood pooling at his bare feet. I stare at him, at the camera in
front of him, at the finery and jewels glittering on his dying body,
at the thick rope coiled around his torso like a devouring snake.

As his hand jerks up in a spasm,
I recall that video image of him. His hand had moved up only to his
cheek, no higher. He couldn't salute properly, because he was
already tied up. Tied up, forced to record that last message as a
diversionary tactic, and left to die while the Empress made her
escape.

Used and discarded.

Taunted, tortured and destroyed.

Lowering my gun, I take a shaky
step forward. Jaxon holds the flashlight steady, shining the harsh
light pitilessly at the Emperor. His body is tensed, his eyes alert,
his gun ready to fire at anyone charging through the door behind me.
But he doesn't stop me from doing what I have come to do.

A moan gurgles from the Emperor
throat, and more blood spurts from his mouth. He bares his
blood-stained teeth in a grimace, a grotesque parody of a grin.

“
Your Majesty,” I
say, my voice low but steady.

“
Huh? Wha—? Who's
there?” he gasps. “Help...help me...”

“
Do you remember me, Your
Majesty?” I take another step closer. “I'm Zoey, Zoey
Whard.”

“
I d-don't know you!
I...I don't know anything.” Spurred by pain and panic, the
Emperor rasps and twists feebly in his ropes in a last, desperate
spurt of strength. “Go away! H-help me! Save me! Help!
Guards!” He chokes and begins to cry.
“H-help...it...hurts...”

Convulsions rack his body as he
coughs violently, splattering blood over my boots. “H-help
m-me...please...” he whimpers, his eyes rolling back in his
head.

I stare at the blood flowing
unstoppably from all his orifices, at his jerking, dying body, at the
face of a man in excruciating agony. I don't know how long he has
been sitting here, bleeding out his life, suffering horribly in this
dank, forsaken bunker, alone, abandoned, betrayed.

“
Help you,” I say
numbly. “Did you help any of the Sirens when they begged for
their lives in your bed? Did you help them as they were being bitten
and devoured by your pet snakes? Did you help them, Your Majesty?”

“
Help...help...” the
Emperor intones, his head lolling on his shoulders. His eyes start
rolling back before suddenly snapping back to focus. He stares at
me, his bloodshot eyes widening and bulging.

“
I know you!” he
rasps. “You...and him!” He turns his head in Jaxon's
direction, but with the light in his eyes, he can only squint and
squirm as he tries in vain to see Jaxon's face in the shadows.
“Commander Ryleth, I know you!” the Emperor calls out
happily. “You are my best Commander! Have I ever told you
that?”

Jaxon remains silent. Watchful.

I can feel Jaxon's eyes on me,
despite the Emperor taunting and baiting him with vulgar jocularity.

Jaxon nods at me.
Do what
you have to do.

I take a small step forward.
The Emperor turns suddenly towards me, his eyes wet as he stops
howling at his own crass jokes. “Traitor!” he sings over
his shoulder at Jaxon. “Commander Ryleth is a traitor, a dead
man. He tried to kill me. Did you know that?” The Emperor
smirks at me. “He charged into my chambers and tried to kill
me. And then...he escaped, with my whore!” He laughs
uproariously. “Can you believe that my Commander tried to kill
his Emperor, all because of a common whore? A Siren that I picked
off the streets? Crazy, right? But you know what is even crazier?
My Empress, my dear sweet, filthy Empress, made me drink
that...that...elixir! The Elixir, she said, of Eternity.” He
mimics the Empress's voice, and wriggles his fingers contemptuously.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“
I drank it,” the
Emperor deadpans. “Oh, I drank every drop of it. And see what
it's done to me.”

He laughs sadly, bitterly. “I
know, I know. I deserve it. I should have killed that scheming
bitch when I had the chance.”

His head jerks back suddenly as
he labors for breath. Blood vessels burst in his eyes and bloody
tears track down his face. He is bleeding to death internally. His
lungs are beginning to fill with his own blood, drowning him.

In a sudden moment of clarity,
the Emperor raises his head to look straight at me.

“
Zoey Whard. End this.”

His eyes glaze over but still he
fixes his bloody, unseeing eyes on me.

“
End this,” he
whispers, his face no longer contorted in pain. “Kill me.”
Slowly, he raises his hand in that stiff, twitching salute.

His last words are clear and
strong.

His lips curve upwards as I
raise my gun.

Without blinking, I squeeze the
trigger.

We have been in hiding for about
a week, shuttling from bunker to cave, scavenging in the woods and
keeping to the shadows. Jaxon stays by my side, making sure I have
enough to eat and drink, and watches over me for the few hours that I
manage to sleep each night.

I'd thought that I would feel
vindicated, avenged, alive, when I shot that one bullet
unflinchingly, unerringly into the Emperor's head. Wasn't that what
I wanted to do for so long? Hadn't I dreamed of that moment, when I
could finally have my revenge?

Hadn't I just killed my most
hated enemy? A monster?

But the man I saw in that putrid
bunker, tied to a chair and bleeding out his poisoned life alone in
the dark, half blind and mad from terror and agony, is not the
monster I remembered.

His pain, his fear and immense
suffering, even though deserved, had been real. Raw, stark and
terrible. The thing I had killed in that bunker was not a monster,
but a shadow.

His death didn't make me feel
alive. It made me feel dead.

Dead and empty.

Jaxon had to pry the gun out of
my frozen fingers and hold me for a long time after I put a hole in
the middle of the Emperor's forehead. He hugged me and spoke to me
in low, quiet tones but I didn't hear a single word he said. All I
heard in that timeless void was the Emperor's last words:
Kill
me.

Kill me.

Kill me.

I can still smell the stench of
his poisoned blood, and see his rolling, soulless eyes as blood oozed
from the corners of his eyes, creating the illusion that he was
crying tears of blood. But the Emperor wasn't crying. He didn't
weep for any of his victims. He shed not a tear for all the Sirens
and Slaves and innocent lives that he had brutally taken. There was
no remorse, no guilt, no regret, even as he breathed his last. If he
cried, it was only for himself. Out of pain and anger, at the
betrayal of his Empress and his Generals.

I know that and yet...the sense
of victory and justice and honor that I had thought would come with
his death eludes me. I just feel sick and tired, and I don't want to
keep fighting.