Dark Vengeance Kristi Belcamino (read me a book .txt) 📖

her voice. And she wouldn’t meet my eyes. I saw her and Arrow exchange a look that I couldn’t interpret.

It was almost as if she were afraid.

4

I didn’t sleep well. I tossed and turned most of the night until finally I gave up.

I sat up in the dark, full of different emotions: mostly anxiety and frustration. I was worried about Rose. I was worried about Dylan. And I was frustrated that there was little I could do to help either one of them.

With the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I left the hut and walked outside to the beach, sitting cross legged in the sand and staring at the dark sea before me.

I had no idea what time it was.

To my right, I could see the orange flames of a bonfire farther down the beach.

It seemed close to morning. There was the faintest hint of light to the east behind me. I wondered if the fire had been going all night or if someone had woken early to start it this morning.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to be able to make out shapes around the fire.

I glanced over my shoulder at the hut, my thoughts racing as I mentally went over everything I’d seen inside there in case there was something I could use as a weapon. All I had was a small canister of pepper spray. I’d left all my guns and knives and swords at home—if you could even still call Barcelona home—because I was traveling so lightly. Once upon a time, Eva had given me a carry-on bag able to conceal a gun, but I had left that at home, as well.

Thinking of Barcelona nearly doubled me over with grief.

Glancing at the bonfire, I saw one figure peel away from the others. It seemed eerily large. Was it coming closer? I squinted through the tears that had formed, thinking of my life in Barcelona.

The best years of my life had taken place in that Spanish city. It had been the first time since my parents died in my early twenties that I’d felt fully at peace with my life. I’d carved out a family for myself. Me, Nico, and his daughter, Rose, who had become as dear to me as my own child even before I’d met Nico.

But our enemies had destroyed that.

The Sultan had shattered Rose’s life on the day she turned eighteen by killing her best friend and boyfriend, Timothy. When she was younger, she’d decided against life as an assassin, even though my aunt Eva had trained her with the best. Her goal was to live a normal life with Timothy. But that had been cruelly snatched away from her. Her path was clear then. She vowed to find the Sultan and make him pay. She left with Dylan and set off on her own. For a while, she answered her phone.

Nico was the next to go. Alzheimer’s disease took his mind way before pneumonia took his body. I’d lost him years before his actual body gave out.

But it ravaged me.

It still was tearing me apart.

I’d come to find Rose, not only to tell her about her father’s passing, but also because she was the last link I had to my once happy past.

My coming here, the last place Eva could trace her phone, had let something loose. Something dark and evil.

If only I’d stayed away, maybe Rose would still be living the simple life, surfing the waves and hanging out with her new friends at bonfires, Dylan by her side.

It was inconceivable that I was so naïve I’d showed up with only my rusty martial arts skills and an old can of pepper spray as weapons. I hadn’t expected I’d have to fight. I had thought I was simply going to find Rose and tell her the news.

I was unprepared.

It just went to show how I hadn’t truly thought like a killer for years. Which was a mistake.

I’d grown complacent even in the face of danger—knowing that the Sultan and those he made do his bidding, such as Lana, the woman he convinced to kill Timothy, were still out there.

I didn’t want to even think about it, but the most likely scenario was that it was the Sultan who now had Rose. I’d never met the guy, but he was a dark evil with some strange powers that I wasn’t even sure I believed in.

Thinking about him made me uneasy. I stared at the bonfire in the distance. It was moving strangely. No, it was a shadow in front of it. Yes, someone was walking toward me. One of the figures lit up by the fire was growing bigger and seemed to undulate in an odd way.

As the silhouette grew larger, it was obvious that someone was heading right toward me. I wondered if the person could see me in the dark and assumed that they could. I thought of Dre and the animosity he exuded.

That guy didn’t like me. If he was coming over to me and meant me harm, I’d have to rely on my physical skills, Budo training and other defensive measures. Luckily, that was one thing I’d kept up with over the years, mainly to stay in shape.

The person was tall. I didn’t think Dre was tall. It probably wasn’t anyone wishing me harm, but for some reason I was filled with apprehension. It probably stemmed from thinking about the Sultan. He was a cult leader who had followers everywhere, willing to do his evil bidding.

Even though I was seated, I was prepared to fight. Every muscle was tensed, every nerve on high alert. My senses went into overdrive, and suddenly the sound of the waves disappeared and the sound of fabric rubbing together was overly loud as the person walked closer. My fists clenched together, my jaw was tight, my legs poised to sweep out and take the person down to the ground if necessary.

“Gia?” It was Makeda.

Relief flooded me. I was embarrassed.