Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Song checked his watch. “Drink your tea, Monique. The feast awaits, and you’ll need your strength.”
I wanted to press him further, to dig deeper into what he wasn’t saying, but something in his eyes stopped me.
In fact. . .I felt like he wasn’t just telling a story.
He was warning me.
I lifted the cup to my lips, and the scent of jasmine filled my senses. The tea was smooth and warm, but it felt heavier somehow, like I was swallowing more than just liquid. I was swallowing the weight of the night to come.
The decisions.
The danger.
The battle.
And as much as I hated to admit it, Song was right.
I needed my strength.
“You still look worried, Mountain Mistress.”
“Because I have a brain.”
“You’ve given Lei something his father never could. Hope. A reason to fight that isn’t built on rage or revenge. Lei will win as long as you don’t end that hope.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
Hope.
The word echoed in my mind.
Thinking that word seemed like a luxury, something I hadn’t dared to hold onto in so long.
But maybe Song was right.
Perhaps, Lei needed more than strength to defeat Leo. Maybe he needed to believe in something beyond this endless cycle of violence.
I exhaled slowly, finished the tea, and then put my view on the window.
Outside, the sun had dipped lower, painting the mountains in shades of amber and crimson.
The sky looked like it was bleeding.
I murmured, more to myself than to Song. “I slept the whole damn day.”
“You needed the rest.”
“Did I?”
“You had been up all night solidifying your own legacy.”
I put my view back on him. “I’m a killer now.”
“Welcome to the family.”
I set the now empty cup on the end table near me. My fingers trembled the whole time. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Kill.” The word lodged in my throat. “How do you live with it? How do you. . .cope?”
“That depends on what you mean by cope.” He studied me. “Do you want to know how I handle the act of killing, or how I deal with the person I’ve become because of it?”
“Both.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckled softly. “I’ve been killing since I was a teenager.”
My whole body stiffened.
“I barely remember what it feels like to not have blood on my hands. So if you’re asking for some profound insight into the person I was before. . .I can’t give you that. He’s gone.”
I swallowed hard. “Gone?”
“The first time you kill, it’s like a door opens inside you. A door you can never close again. You walk through it, and the person you were stays on the other side.”
I shivered as the truth of his words settled deep in my bones. “So, what happens then? When you become. . .this new person?”
“You adapt. You learn to control it. To harness it. Killing changes you. It sharpens your instincts, heightens your senses. It makes you an apex predator.”
I parted my lips.
“I’m sure you feel the changes. At least your body knows it now, even if your mind is still catching up. Your vision is clearer, your hearing sharper, your reflexes faster. You’re no longer just a person—you’re a threat. And when you walk among others, the world will respond to you as such before you even say a word.”
I let his words sink in.
He was right—I could feel it when I woke up. The way the world seemed more vivid, more alive. The way I noticed every sound, every movement, every shift in the air around me.
“But being a predator comes with responsibilities; you can’t be a monster to the people you love. That’s where most killers fail.”
“How do I do that?”
Song exhaled. “You have to compartmentalize. You kill when it’s necessary—when it’s a tool to achieve something greater. But you leave it behind when you step into the lives of the people who matter to you. You don’t bring it into your home. Never.”
“But what if it’s always there? What if it changes how they see me?”
Song’s eyes softened. “It will change how they see you. But it doesn’t have to define you. You’re still Monique. You’re still a sister, a lover, a survivor with a big heart. Killing is just a part of you now, but it’s not all of you.”
Tension gathered in my shoulders.
I didn’t want to be like Leo and lose myself in the darkness.
I will never let this consume me.
I looked at Song. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Answering my questions and helping me.”
“You’re now officially the Mountain Mistress.” Although sitting, he gave me a small bow. “I now serve you.”
And then he let out a loud whistle.
What the fuck? Why did he do that? Who is he signaling?
Chapter eighteen
A Legacy of Blood
Moni
Before I could process what Song’s whistle meant, the tent’s entrance flap rustled, and five women rushed in.
They moved with ease and speed, yet there was an underlying tension between them that manifested in their avoidance of direct eye contact with me. Also, the air around them charged with nervous energy, making their movements jittery and uncertain.