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The Darkest Secret

The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld #7)(97)
Author: Gena Showalter

Someone with the power to kil the rest of us, someone who could have been used against us, yet chose to save us instead. Through her own death.”

A thick, heavy silence enveloped the entire room.

Stil Secrets made no attempt to speak through him.

Perhaps because the taint of memories had been purged inside that cave. Perhaps because the demon mourned Haidee’s passing as he did.

His friends continued to stare at him, not moving, not even daring to breathe. Their thoughts and emotions grew in intensity, final y piercing the quiet. Some felt sorry for him.

Some felt guilty for having condemned Haidee. Only Sabin refused to back away from his own hate.

Strider, though… Strider was the worst. Her death is for the best, the warrior thought. Ultimately, she would have turned on him. She wouldn’t have been able to help herself. And when she hurt him, or us, he would have blamed himself. He wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself, either.

The statement pushed Amun over the edge. Hel . No.

Amun didn’t realize he’d launched out of his seat until he had his hands around Strider’s neck. Until he was tossing the warrior into the wal , plaster dusting around him. “What the f**k, man?” a scowling Strider demanded as he stood.

“Her death wasn’t for the best! She was lovely, damn you.

She deserved to live. I’m the one who should have died.

And you can wrap up your excuses as prettily as you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that you just don’t care that she’s dead.”

“Okay. Okay. Whatever. Just relax. You’re entitled to your opinion, and I’m entitled to mine.”

“Mine is the only one that matters!” With a roar, Amun launched at Strider again. They fel to the floor in a tangle of violence.

“Stop,” Lucien commanded. “Now.”

“Let them finish,” Sabin said.

Amun tuned them out. His fists pounded at Strider, his legs kicked. Strider, of course, began fighting back. They rol ed together and slammed into the table. Plates shattered, food splattered. Both of them knew how to fight, and fight dirty.

Knew how to stop a heart from beating, how to break a femur with a wel -placed kick, how to smash a trachea and prevent oxygen from making it into greedy lungs. They did al of that and more.

And stil they kept fighting, no one trying to separate them.

Amun’s hands soon swel ed from continuous impact with bone, his fingers refusing to bend. Dizziness washed through him, black winking over his vision, but even that didn’t slow him. When this was over, Strider was going to regret his thoughts and words. Strider was going to admit how special Haidee had been.

Defeat’s nose broke under the next strike of Amun’s palm.

Blood poured. That crimson flow reminded him of what Hate had done to Haidee—fangs digging into her beautiful neck—and that only increased the depths of his rage.

“Tel me you appreciate what she did for us. Tel me!”

“You want me to lie? She was a Hunter,” Strider shouted, a few of his teeth missing. “A kil er.”

“We’re kil ers!” Another strike. Another direct hit. Two pearly whites sailed through the air.

“Damn it!” Defeat’s rage increased as wel , and he kneed Amun in the groin. “She couldn’t be trusted. I realized that.

Why can’t you?” The words were slurred as they pushed through the empty spaces where his teeth had been.

Amun shook off the pain. What was physical pain after the emotional agony of losing his woman, anyway? He dove into Strider’s middle, sending the warrior flailing to the ground. On impact, Strider lost his breath. The warrior was quick to recover, and they rol ed, stil pounding on each other—until they slammed into one of the table legs and cracked the wood.

Amun stil ed, glaring down at the man he’d once cal ed brother. “I trusted her more than I trusted anyone else. Even you.”

Strider pushed, sending Amun stumbling to the other side of the room. “How can you say—”

“No, you don’t get to speak.” Once again, he closed the distance between them. No mercy. Secrets knew Strider planned to kick, and so Amun jumped out of the way, spun, punched and ducked, punched and ducked. “You wanted her, but you would have tortured her. You would have ruined her.”

“No.” Somehow, Strider dodged every blow.

“You might, might, have been able to love her, but only after you’d broken her.” Final y, contact.

Strider hunched over, trying to catch the breath he’d only just found. “Don’t you see what’s happening?

She’s dead, but stil she’s pul ing us apart. I love you. I left this fortress for you. So you could have her.”

“You left this fortress for you.” No mercy, he thought again.

“You couldn’t win her, and you knew it.” Amun kneed him in the chin, sending Strider tumbling back into another wal . “I would have married her, pampered her, and I would have expected every single one of you to accept her. But you wouldn’t have, would you? She was just another chal enge to you. But you know what? She rejected you, and you walked away from her without a flicker of pain. That changes now. You wil feel pain. You know why? Because I chal enged you, and you just lost.” With that, Amun punched him. Punched him so hard his jawbone dislocated completely.

Strider was knocked unconscious. Even then, he was in physical pain, moaning from the mental anguish of his defeat.

Amun kicked him while he was down. Again and again.

Someone grabbed him from behind and jerked him away, holding him so tightly he couldn’t quite draw in a breath. Yet stil he fought. His woman had been slighted. He wouldn’t stop until he was appeased.

And he would never be appeased.

“I’m going with her,” he shouted. “Do you hear me? I’m going to die with her! And if you don’t watch your stupid mouth, I’l take you along, too!”

Strider released another moan, this one far more pained.

The warriors holding Amun must have sensed his determination because they ceased trying to hold him and started trying to subdue him.

“We need you,” he heard.

“Don’t talk like that, al right.”

“You’l get through this.”

“No. No!” His body was already badly beaten, weakened, but stil he fought, his rage like a living entity.

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”

“No!”

They squeezed tighter.

“Let us help you.”

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