The Puppet Assassin - Ch 30 [death's harvester]

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I wrote much of this while very very tired so either ignore the grammatical errors or feel very free to point them out to me :)

Chapter Thirty

Death’s Harvester



The way Scythe said my name made me instantly realise that he was planning something. He was smiling, too wide, and his eyes gave away his intent. This was not a casual visit. He was not here to check in on me. He was here to take me away. He was here to kill my supporters.

He had taught me well for me to be able to decipher this from his expression and tone of voice.

“Luke…” I said softly. He had to know that Scythe should not have been allowed into the house. He shouldn’t have been allowed to step onto the street. I thought that Liam had a patrol set up in the neighbourhood.

Scythe took a step forward and his icy blue eyes frosted over rather than warmed as he revealed his teeth in a feral smile. “Zelde, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m the bad guy.” He flicked a glance at Larkin who still stood in front of me and I knew what message he was trying to send. But he was wrong, and I wasn’t stupid. There was only one bad person in the room.

“You’re probably coming up with all these suspicious conclusions, paranoid that I’m here to take you back. But Dizelde, you were like a daughter to me. I’m the one that wrote the note. I’m the one that made it seem like you escaped. I’m the one who made sure that no one would find you in the hours after your escape had been discovered. I didn’t want you working for me.”

My fingers tensed on Larkin’s arm and I glanced at Luke. I was too keyed up to tell if he’d been telling the truth or not. He gave me a blank stare. I had no idea what he was trying to say, or if he was giving me a message at all. Maybe he thought that I shouldn’t be involved, even though the enemy was standing right in front of me.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Lark said, gesturing towards the table.

Scythe chose the chair next to the ripped clothing that Garth had shed. I glanced at the giant cat who was staring unblinkingly at Scythe. I should’ve felt safer with him there, so close, so dangerously built, but I couldn’t help but feel something was off. And it had everything to do with Scythe’s casual entry and calm expression.

In a simple move, Larkin slipped his arm out of my grip and took my hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze and led me to the table. He pulled out a chair for me, waited until I took my seat, and then sat next to me. Luke sat at the opposite end to Scythe, next to me. Larkin’s thumb began to brush back and forth over the back of my palm. It was probably an attempt to comfort me but, while it was a nice distraction, I was nearly sick with the anticipation of an attack.

“So, why are you here?” Luke asked. Rather than curious, he sounded impatient.

Scythe leant forward, resting his elbows on the table.  “Look, I didn’t plan on Dizelde to be picked up by you boys. I had an acquaintance, a trusted friend, who was supposed to pick her up nearby. I can’t impose on you anymore, even though you have kept her well protected. I’m here to take her off your hands.”

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