Page 450 - Fourth Wing

But it wasn’t Liam who cheated death.

It was me.
And I can’t help but wonder if somewhere, on some plane of existence,

Malek sits on his throne, angry that I stole a soul from his grasp.

But then again, I gave him Jack’s.
Of course, it might have broken mine forever.

…

The wooden target in my room wobbles as one of my daggers sinks into the

wood beside the last one I threw. I might be angry with the world, but at
least my aim isn’t off. If I miss, there’s a good chance the blade is flying out

the window, considering where I have the target propped up on the wall.
I throw three more, rapid-fire, and hit the throat of the person-shaped

target every single time.

What’s the point of going for shoulders anymore if I’m already taking
people out with bolts of lightning? What was my restraint for? With a flick

of my wrist, I send the next dagger soaring, putting it straight through the

figure’s forehead just as there’s a knock at my door.
It’s either Rhiannon asking for the tenth time if I want to talk about what

happened today or it’s Liam—

I pause. It can’t be Liam, checking to see if I’m actually turned in for the
night, because Liam is still in the infirmary, healing from the sword he took

to the side.
“Come in.” Who cares if I’m in nothing but my dressing gown? It’s not

like I can’t strike an intruder dead with a knife. Or lightning.

The door opens beside me, but I don’t bother looking as I throw another
dagger. That height? That hint of dark hair I catch in my peripheral vision?

That incredible scent? I don’t even need to look fully—my body tells me
it’s Xaden.

Then my body reminds me exactly what it feels like to have his mouth on