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Death (The Four Horsemen #4)(29)

Author:Laura Thalassa

My spine stiffens. They’re returning? How were they not convinced by the stampede of wild animals that the horseman is coming?

I look over my shoulder at them. “Run!” I try to scream. The gag muffles my warning.

“What’s gotten into her?” one of the officers says.

Is it not blatantly obvious?

I scream again in frustration. “Run! Run! Run!”

The group of them stands there, looking confused and a little spooked. Chief Davenport is scrutinizing me, a frown on his face, like perhaps, for the first time, he’s considering that this was not the best idea.

Finally, one of the officers says, “Maybe—maybe we should go.”

Clop—clop—clop.

Too late. Too late too late too late.

I face forward, dread pooling in my stomach. In the distance, I see the horseman, his wings folded behind his back.

“By God,” one of the officers says.

Death is already looking at my form, but the moment I face him, he pulls his horse up short, his eyes scouring over my gag and the rope at my neck, and the cuffs at my wrists and ankles.

His eyes move to my face. There, they linger and linger, his expression seeming to grow more intense, more determined with every passing second.

He clicks his tongue and his horse begins to trot, his attention fixed to me.

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

I can’t seem to push down my anxiety as Thanatos quickly closes the last of the distance between us. I can feel my body shaking, and it’s not just from the cold. I don’t know what to expect from this encounter.

Death stops his horse in front of me. For several seconds, the two of us do nothing but gaze at each other.

“I’ll be damned,” Davenport says in the distance, his voice hushed, “she was telling the truth.”

He’s barely spoken the words when I hear several dull thuds. I’ve heard that sound so many times. Bodies hitting the ground. The chief of police and those officers were bastards for doing this to me, but I still ache that they—and likely the rest of the city—are now gone.

“At last,” Thanatos says, relishing this situation.

Even knowing I need the horseman to unbind me, I still shuffle away from him as he comes forward, the shackles at my ankles clanging together.

“Where are you hoping to go, kismet?” he says, striding after me. “There appears to be only so much rope.”

That doesn’t stop me from continuing to move away from him.

“Did your dear human friends turn on you?” he asks. He catches the rope tied to my neck and reels himself to me. Once I’m within arm’s reach, Death reaches for my gag. With his bare hands, he rips the cloth apart. “Or was this meant to be an ambush?” he asks, sparing a glance around us.

I draw in a ragged breath. “If you try to take me,” I say. “I will make you regret it.”

The corner of his mouth curves up. “Will you now?”

As he speaks, he reaches down. Taking one iron cuff into his hands, he pries it apart, freeing one of my wrists. Then he takes the other cuff and rips it, too, apart before tossing the broken manacles aside. The sight of his staggering strength has me sucking in a panicked breath.

I keep forgetting the two of us are not equals, not when it comes to raw power.

Once Thanatos has removed my handcuffs, he reaches for the shackles at my feet.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He glances up at me, and Death kneeling before me should not look nearly so appealing.

“I’m freeing you.” As though to make his point, he rips one of the cuffs apart.

“Why?”

“Would you prefer that I just leave you here?” he asks, grabbing the last remaining cuff. He pulls on it, and with a groaning snap the metal is torn apart.

The horseman rises then, towering over me once more.

“So, you’re going to let me go?” I ask carefully.

He gives me a sensuous look that I feel deep in my core. “Surely you haven’t forgotten my parting vow.”

So Thanatos does plan on taking me. I don’t exactly know what that entails, but I imagine it means I’ll no longer be able to warn cities of his approach. And though I may be tired of all of this, I’m not ready to call it quits.

“I’m sorry they turned on you,” he says earnestly.

I draw in a deep breath. “They might’ve turned on me, but they didn’t hurt me.” Unlike you.

I don’t want either of us to forget who the true villain in this situation is.

The horseman’s gaze meets mine, and he gets it. I can tell he gets it. But he offers no apologies or excuses.

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