Page 279 - Fourth Wing

falling in an arc in front of me like lifeless puppets.

I can’t find it in my heart to pity them.
Xaden prowls forward as though he has all the time in the world and

holds out his palm as yet another tendril of darkness lifts my discarded

dagger from the floor.
“Let me explain.” Oren eyes the dagger, and his hands tremble.

“I’ve heard everything I need to hear.” Xaden’s fingers curl around the

hilt. “She should have killed you in the field, but she’s merciful. That’s not
a flaw I possess.” He slashes forward so quickly that I barely catch the

move, and Oren’s throat opens in a horizontal line, blood streaming down

his neck and chest in a torrent.
He grabs for his throat, but it’s useless. He bleeds out in seconds,

crumpling to the floor. A crimson puddle grows around him.
“Damn, Xaden.” Garrick walks in, sheathing his sword as his gaze rakes

over the room. “No time for questioning?” His glance sweeps to me as if

cataloging injuries, catching on my throat.
“No need for it,” Xaden counters as Bodhi enters, doing the same quick

assessment Garrick had. The similarity between the cousins still gives me
pause. Bodhi has the same bronzed skin and strong brow line, but his

features aren’t as angular as Xaden’s, and his eyes are a lighter shade of

brown. He looks like a softer, more approachable version of his older
cousin, but my body doesn’t heat at the sight of him the way it does around

Xaden. Or maybe Oren just strangled the common sense out of me.

An illogical laugh bubbles up through my lips, and all three men look at
me like I’ve hit my head.

“Let me guess,” Bodhi says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re on

cleanup?”
“Call in help if you need it,” Xaden answers with a nod.

Bodies.
I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive. I repeat the mantra in my head as Xaden