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Back The Ones We Burn Save as PDF
Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Part One: Skra: Sixty Days Remain
  5. PART ONE SKRA SIXTY DAYS REMAIN
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4 Two weeks later
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. Part Two: Monster: Twenty-Five Days Remain
  25. PART TWO MONSTER TWENTY-FIVE DAYS REMAIN
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. Part Three: Butcher: Six Days Remain
  40. PART THREE BUTCHER SIX DAYS REMAIN
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. 49
  59. 50
  60. 51
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. Part Four: Bloodwinn: Coup Successful
  64. PART FOUR BLOODWINN COUP SUCCESSFUL
  65. 54
  66. 55
  67. 56
  68. 57
  69. 58
  70. 59
  71. 60
  72. 61
  73. 62
  74. 63
  75. 64
  76. 65
  77. 66
  78. 67
  79. 68
  80. 69
  81. 70
  82. 71
  83. 72
  84. 73
  85. 74
  86. 75
  87. 76
  88. 77
  89. 78
  90. 79
  91. 80 EPILOGUE Three months later
  92. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  93. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Vivna and Ongrum, Ongrum and Vivna, taking what should have been love and turning it into a weapon.

A memory, clear as day, splintered her mind: Vivna, shoving dirty fabric into Ranka’s mouth to muffle her screams as she uncorked acid and poured it over a twelve-year-old girl’s hands.

“Stop screaming,” Vivna snarled. She slapped her. “I said stop screaming!” And then, as if remembering herself, her voice grew soft. Buttery. It soothed Ranka, set hooks in her heart, and drew her in. “If we don’t fix your nails, we’ll have to leave. If you love me, you have to do this. Don’t you love me, Ranka? Won’t you prove that you love me?”

It was no wonder it’d been so easy for Ongrum to fill the hole Vivna had left.

If Ranka could have stepped back in time, she would have seized the bleeding, blistering hands of her trembling twelve-year-old self and whispered with every ounce of fury in her heart, This is not what love is.

She would have told her love didn’t demand pain.

And it certainly didn’t require little girls to bleed in a snow-soaked field.

76

RANKA PITCHED FORWARD, RETCHING UNTIL her stomach cramped. Memories unlocked in a flood after she’d broken the mental dam that was Belren. Blood trickled sluggishly over her lips.

In her veins, swirling in her bones, was sheer, godly power. The desire to flex that magic was still there, but now it was like a faint pressure, a nudge of wanting. Gone was her hunger for death, her insatiable itch to cause pain. Sores opened and closed on her skin as the winalin tried to take hold. For now, her blood-magic kept it at bay.

Belren flashed behind her eyes, and so did seventeen years of trauma and pain and lies. What Ongrum and Vivna had felt for her had never been love. It’d been control, and Ranka had been too wrapped in their web of abuse to see otherwise.

Ranka saw their faces, and understood.

She had not been loved by these women. She had survived them.

It never should have happened. She’d been a child, a girl, a witch desperate for a scrap of warmth. She had deserved better. She had always deserved better.

Ranka opened her eyes.

All around her, lives winked out like candle flames. Witches fell on top of one another, crying out in horror as winalin witches sank their teeth into their flesh.

And Ongrum, at the center of it all, a hulking monstrosity of science and magic gone wrong, ruined by her own greed for power. She limped toward the twins, a low moan leaving her throat. Galen trembled, blood dripping from his nose, his lips, his ears. Aramis held his weight, using her free hand to fire iron-tipped darts into the witches who came toward them.