Page 151 of Once Upon a Fable

“Not yet. Stay here until I’ve dealt with Storymaker,” I growled. “It’s not safe yet.”

“I’ll help you kill him,” Neo hissed.

“No, I’m doing this alone—”

“Kas, let me—”

“I said no. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Not waiting for more arguing, I slinked down the stairs with my butcher’s blade high.

The guards would be the hardest part of tonight. They were trained. They had guns. However, after so many years of no real issues and only the occasional discipline required, they’d grown lazy and unprepared.

It just took speed, that was all.

Speed that I committed to as I reached the bottom of the stairs and broke into a run. I bolted through the foyer, skidded into the library, and sliced at the guard on the left then the one on the right.

I struck their arms, rendering only wounds instead of death.

But it gave me enough time to snatch one of their guns and shoot.

Bang.

Bang.

Dead.

Dead.

Storymaker leaped to his feet, his alcohol-induced snooze shattering into pieces. “What the—”

The scuffs of footsteps and quiet whispers of victory sounded behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I eyed my family. “I thought I told you guys to get ready to leave.”

“We want to watch,” Elise muttered, wringing her hands, rope burn obvious on her wrists.

“Yeah, we need to know it’s finished,” Sarez murmured. Her sweet gaze caught mine. “Please, Kas?”

I’d planned on dragging Storymaker’s demise out.

I wanted him to know what it felt like to be carved open by a knife, to struggle in handcuffs, to beg for his life.

I’d already lost my soul to this.

Ithirstedfor his death. Stuart Page, the goddamn Storymaker, was mine. I wanted to bathe in his screams. To sink into his misery.

But I wouldn’t taint my family with more tyranny. Watching death was one thing. Watching torture might scar them even worse than their current wounds.

“What the fucking hell have you done, Kassen?!” Storymaker bellowed, finding his voice after gaping like a fish at his deceased guards.

I spun to face him, loving the presence of my family behind me. “I did what you all deserved.”

“You’ll fucking pay for this.” He raised his hand, pointing a shaking finger in my direction. “Go to bed, all of you. You’ll be suitably punished in the morning.”

A few stifled moans sounded behind me. Conditioned psyches needing to obey. “There won’t be any punishment, guys,” I whispered. “You don’t need to fear him anymore.”

“You do. You have so much to fucking fear.” Storymaker stepped toward us, his eyes on the gun I held. He’d always prided himself on training us so well, he didn’t need to carry a gun to keep us afraid.

Bet he wished he hadn’t been so arrogant now.