Holocaust (The Deadwood Hunter Series Book 3) by Rachel M Raithby Read Free Book Online Page B

emotions, Lexia.
    Is it really that hard for you to admit you care a little for them?
    I don’t care about anything, Lexia. To care is to die. Your emotions are your weakness, Lexia. I would have thought the fact you are hiding within your own mind would have been evidence enough.
    Maura paused in her tracks. The noise drifting through the training room’s doors glued her feet to the spot. It sounded as if every person in the compound had been crammed into the space. Why had she been instructed to come here? What was waiting for her?
    Lexia stirred within her as the dread intensified. What does she have planned? Both Maura and Lexia mused.
    Enough! I am Maura. I do not care what Mother has planned! Her fingers clenched and unclenched, each one of her knuckles cracking. She shook out her arms, allowing the tension to drain from her limbs.
    I am Maura. I feel nothing.
    Maura’s plan had been to push the doors open with such a force that they slammed against the walls, drawing everyone’s attention to her arrival, but the second she caught a glimpse inside the room, her fingers clawed the edge of the doors, slowing their journey.
    Only the few nearest to the doors noticed her walk in. A quick deadly stare forced them all to look away. Maura smiled to herself. See, I still instill fear in them. She spoke to herself more than Lexia; she needed the reminder. She needed to remember who she was.
    Maura made her way silently through the crowd, her eyes on her mother who stood on the makeshift stage which had been erected near the far wall. Lucy looked bored. Derrick stood by her side, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his expression one of indifference, though Maura could see through his mask.
    What is this? Maura wondered.
    An execution. Isn’t it obvious, Maura?
    Well, yes…but why do I need to be here?
    Lexia never had a chance to answer her.
    “Maura dear, how nice of you to join us.” Lucy clapped her hands, bringing the crowd to silence.
    This will be fun!
    Quiet, Lexia, unless you’d like our mother to notice and kill your friends?
    Fine.
    Time to put on my game face.
    “Mother, I’m sorry I wasn’t aware there was something planned for this morning,” Maura replied, stepping up onto the stage, glancing briefly at Derrick as she passed.
    “No need to apologize. Just something I planned last minute. Now you’re here, we can start.”
    There was a muffled shout from the far corner of the stage. Maura looked at the person tied up, recognizing him as an elite but not recalling his name.
    “So what have you planned?” Maura asked, standing next to her mother. The urge to clench her hands was hard to ignore; talking to her mother with respect, even harder.
    Lucy smiled sweetly at her, and then turned to the crowd, looking cruel and twisted. She took a step forward addressing the crowd. “Why, Mathew’s punishment of course. How silly of him to believe he could overthrow my crown.” She laughed, surveying the crowd.
    Maura stared, not sure what Mathew had done. She’d killed Wade for stabbing her with the poison laced blade and then Belemy when he tried to turn the hunters against her. Either Mathew had been involved in planning Wade and Belemy’s plans or Lucy wanted to punish someone in public. Mathew just happened to be the person she picked. Maura had a feeling it was the latter.
    “And of course we need to discuss your punishment, Maura,” Lucy directed at her.
    “Punishment?” Maura ground out. Who the hell does she think she is?
    Maura, please, stay calm, Lexia begged Maura from within.
    “Why, yes, dear, you did attack me. That cannot go unpunished.”
    Maura’s fists clenched, the sharp edge of her nails biting into her skin. She ground her teeth together as she faced her mother. “You provoked me!” she hissed, the grip on her control slipping.
    “Yes, well things did get a little out of control. Do not look so worried, sweetie. It’s not like I’m sentencing you to death like