The Void Queen's Ascension

Chapter 2

Aidan escorted Blaise out of the darkening compound and moved to their car. Yet when they reach the vehicle, Blaise abruptly stopped walking; her heart crawled to the back of her throat beginning to pulsate there. Her head snapped toward the car Loch had been perched in. His eyes narrowed when he watched as her gaze seemingly fixated directly at him. He raised a hand from his lap resting it on the steering wheel as he raised his eyebrow at her steely, yet steady gaze.

Blaise could not see him, and even if she could, she would have noticed how his gaze broke its focus on her to focus on the clenching palm before her friend pulled her toward him. A loud crack of thunder ripped through the silence and Nero snarled.

You should feel nothing for her.

You want control?

God yes.

No, you're not getting it. Why would I give you control?

Let me go. Let me—

You are reckless. Dangerous.

You cannot possibly be afraid of me, are you?

Nero's head rolled as another gunshot tore overhead through the mounting silence. His eyes, once navy blue, now morphed to the terrifying four-leaf clover green. He placed the car in reverse, noticing through the windshield window, how Blaise stiffened, her palms curling in on herself, yet her protector draped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her pinned against him. The car's engine rumbled from its position adjacent to their car. Passing them by, Nero could feel Blaise' heated gaze upon his car.

As he passed them, he watched as her head cocked to the side, her gaze watching the blue automobile pass them by. When he swore he could see the flicker of a tear develop, he chuckled, listening to the rain hammer overhead.

You're a bitch, and if I am dead to you, whatever we had is and should be an irrelevance.

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I am not a liar.

I am in no way manipulative.

However, how I came to find out about my sister's death, which should have enraged me more than it actually did, was not of my own doing. In fact, I could be certain that my sister's death was committed at the hands of Aidan Brantley. He was always a resistant and defiant bastard. Yet, how could he have killed her? The reasoning was there, and if I were any less intelligent than I am, I would have dared to state that my father was behind my sister's unfortunate but necessary demise.

Oh.

My father.

The man is just as manipulative and cunning as my sister was, if not more so. In fact, it was my father's dealings, and my quite entertaining past that drove me to become what I am. I hated it.

I hated it.

I loathed it.

I loathe him for driving me to do what I do.

By nature, is humanity violent? If the answer is yes, then how is it possible that humanity has managed to live peacefully in most circumstances?

If the answer is no, do you live under a rock?

Are you truly so foolish as to have the ridiculous notion that we are driven to survive through any means necessary?

Is there a point to this?

Perhaps there was. In my youth, my sister was idealized for her similarities to our father, her confidence alone carried her through grade school. Yet our home life was anything but a fairy tale. Even now, some physical scars coil through me much deeper than I would like to admit.