Shadow Passage by Shyla
Wolff
(Anath #3)
Published 15th of May 2015
by eXtasybooks
MF Paranormal Erotica
Tariffs paid on an ill-fated
decision can last a lifetime.
A young boy—tossed an
impossible situation by his psychopathic uncle, father or sister, he must kill
one for the other to survive.
Two decades later, Dylan has
developed his psychic talents, trained by the military, learned the skills
necessary to locate the family he’d abandoned as a child and kill the devil
himself, Roth. On the day he’s discharged, his ex-boss offers assistance in locating
his sisters, demanding help with one more mission in exchange.
Tori, a young woman weeks
away from graduating with her Psych doctorate, is torn from her stable life and
thrust into a world of espionage, warriors, and unexplainable phenomenon. The
man she loves, Major Clannahan, attaches her to the unit charged with locating
a terrorist cell. Dylan, leading the unit, draws her like no other. Yet the
darkness buried in his soul will test her skills and patience beyond anything
she’s ever known.
Kiera and Kyley, identical
twins challenged by the extremes of evil yet remain pure of heart, both bound
to their man with a love withstanding the tests of time and tragedy. One a
warrior, the other with a warrior’s heart, each wield formidable psychic talents,
sought after by a psychopath and terrorist bent on destroying the country.
A group of psychic warriors,
dedicated to fighting evil in the shadows, locating and helping others develop
their paranormal talents without splintering society’s tenacious perception of
reality.
These are the extraordinary
people living among us, protecting and preserving our way of life. Courage and
honor, duty and strength of will can sustain us for only so long. Eventually,
we must find our own path forward, learning to open our hearts to love even as
we risk the ultimate pain.
Excerpt
“The choice is yours, boy, but understand—not deciding is making a
decision. Do it before I make the decision for you. Only difference is, I won’t
kill one, I’ll kill them both. Father or sister. You have allthe power.”
Roth kept his tone calm and
gentle. The evil coiled tightly within warmed his soul. He fancied the boy
killing his father, silently rooting for the infant to survive. He could have
lots of fun with her over the coming years.
The boy’s father would die
either way. He’d bound and beaten him just for fun.
“Daddy? What do I do?” Tears
streamed down Dylan’s face, sobs racked his entire nine-year-old battered
frame. His gaze slid from his father to his baby sister, now held by Roth. When
he looked back at his dad’s bruised and bloodied face, he cried harder. His
dad’s eyes were swollen almost shut.
The gun shook uncontrollably
in the boy’s small hand. “Daddy?”
Boredom shadowed his mind as
the excitement of the climax dimmed with the child’s indecisiveness. His gaze
wandered out the window above the kitchen sink.
In the back yard, a massive,
wooden play structure stood, complete with swings, tunnels, overhead ladder,
and a slide. How extravagant for just two children, one still an infant. His
sister always belabored the little things. Shame she’s not present to witness
this. He would’ve found this even more amusing.
The blond haired infant
cradled roughly in his left arm actually cooed at him. Disgusting. If he kept
this thing, he'd have to hire a nanny. Still, the thought of it growing up with
half the powers his sister enjoyed years ago made the brat worth the
trouble...If she survived today. He sighed.
* * * *
“Dylan, son, it's okay.
You’re going to be all right. Look at me. Remember how we played catch this
morning? When you think of me, you’ll remember how we played ball today. Okay,
son?”
What else could he say in
this horrific situation? His own psychotic brother-in-law was forcing Dylan to
commit the most heinous act imaginable, choose between patricide and
sororicide. Roth had always been the canary in the crazy mind but even Devon
hadn’t seen this coming.
“Awww, isn’t this touching?”
Roth muttered, no doubt weary of his twisted game. “What a little wimp. I’m
growing tired of your indecision, boy. I think I’ll just slice this little
bitch’s throat. After all, she’d probably just grow up to be a carbon copy of
her mother, stubborn and willful. Wouldn’t want more of that in the world,
would we?”
“Noooo, please. Please don’t
hurt her! She’s just a baby.” Facing where he knew his son to be by the sound of
his sobbing stifled his thoughts. “Son, I know this is the hardest thing you’ll
ever do, but you must. Please. It’s all right. I love you more than anything.”
Dylan retched, fumbling and
almost dropping the Glock 9mm pistol. It probably felt like the heaviest thing
he’d ever held, certainly his first time holding a gun.
His small frame trembled,
tears streamed from his eyes, hair matted to his face. Red, swollen tissue
marred the right side of his face, the result of Roth’s cold temper. The
kitchen table supported his slight weight as he leaned one forearm on its edge.
“Roth, please don’t do this.
He’s just a boy. Be the sniveling coward you’ve always been. Do it yourself.”
Articulation was slurred through split and bloody lips. His tongue slipped between
the gap of two missing teeth.
Though partially open, his
right eye refused to focus properly. Warm, wet liquid traced a path down his
face. Gravity would always trump decency. Blood splattered his clothes. Patches
of gray clouded the edges of his vision. Unconsciousness lumbered near. The
drumming in his head kept pace with his rapid-fire pulse. No child should ever
see his father this way, unable to protect his family. Even if his son survived
Roth, which he began to doubt, he'd be scarred for life.
“Oh, Devon, Devon, Devon.
You just don’t get it, do you? I’m not a coward,” Roth admonished. “I have no
qualms about ending any of your lives. Watch, let me demonstrate.” His
patronizing voice oozed in the air like oil spreading over water to corrupt with
its filth. Roth pulled the six-inch blade from its sheath at his waist and held
it to the baby’s throat, who lay cuddled in the crook of his left arm.
“No, don’t. You bastard!”
Devon strained at the rope binding his hands behind his back. “Dylan, listen. Take
the family crest ring off my finger. Go ahead, son, take it. It’s yours. It’s
our coat of arms.” Twisting sideways forced the bonds to cut his wrists as he
removed the ring from fingers slick with blood.
When his son took it, he
realized these would be his last words to his boy. “Put it in your pocket, you
can get a chain for it until you’re grown. That ring is a symbol of your
strength, son, a symbol of your commitment to do whatever’s necessary to
protect your family. Remember this, Dylan.” Dear God, he'll have nightmares the
rest of his life...if he survives.
Other
in the series
Shadow
Horizons, Shadowed Origins
About the Author
Of the many lessons life
seems intent on throwing her way; the most important one Shyla’s learned is to
take the time to enjoy family and friends. The flux and flow of changes aren’t
something to fight, but adapt to with the best of your ability. One day’s
heartbreak is often followed by another day’s triumph. The only barricades
remaining are the ones we refuse to navigate. She hopes you’ve enjoyed this
story. Shyla’s website, ShylaWolff.com, will be updated as Dylan’s journey
continues.
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