“I will not let you cage me.” Greyson’s voice had dropped to a growl as he said the words.
“Then maybe the Daggermouth’s second assassination attempt was more successful than the first.” The threat hung in the air between them. “Perhaps she turned you against your family, against the Heart. Perhaps you are both threats that must be eliminated.”
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Greyson snarled, rising to his feet. “You can’t—”
“I can,” Maximus cut him off, his voice hardening. “I can and I will. You killed eight of my men, Greyson. Be grateful I’m allowing you to live, to continue with the ceremony. Be grateful I’m not having your bitch dragged to the platform this very moment and putting a bullet in the back of her head like I did her parents.” Maximus slowly leaned across the desk, toward his son. “Do not forget your sister has a perfectly good womb. Heirs are replaceable. Even if sons are not.”
Something snapped inside Shadera at his words, at the casual cruelty with which he threatened her life,theirlives. She stood besideGreyson, hand still clasping his, her eyes burning into Maximus Serel’s golden mask.
“One day,” she said, her voice low, deadly, “you will pay for every crime you’ve committed. Against my parents. Against the rings. Against your son.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “Against yourdaughter.”
Maximus went rigid. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant.
“Is that a threat, Ms. Kael?” he asked, his voice silk over poison.
“It’s a promise,” she replied. “The Heartwillfall.Youwill fall. And I will be there to watch it happen.”
Maximus rose slowly from his chair, his height and breadth emphasizing the power he wielded. “No one will stand against me. Not the rings. Not my enemies. Not my own blood.” He moved around the desk with measured steps, stopping directly before her. “And certainly not Daggermouth scum like you, Shadera Kael.”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“You think you know what power is? What cruelty is? You have not seen anything yet. When this is over, when you have served your purpose, you will die like all the rest, as an example to all who would challenge me.”
The doors burst open behind them. Mikel entered, flanked by six more Veyra officers, their weapons drawn.
“Father—” Greyson started, fury igniting in his voice.
“Take them,” Maximus ordered, stepping back. “Separate cells. No contact until the ceremony.”
The Veyra descended upon them like wolves. Shadera felt hands grabbing her arms, wrenching her away from Greyson. She clung to his hand, fighting instinctively. She landed an elbow to one officer’s throat, heard him choke and stumble back. Her leg swept out, catching another behind the knees.
“Shadera.” Greyson’s voice cut through her thunderous heartbeats, desperation in his voice. “Don’t fight them, they’ll hurt you.”
A blow landed between her shoulder blades, driving her to her knees. Hands tangled in her hair, yanking her head back as Greyson’s fingers were ripped from hers. She felt it then, real, exquisite fear as she frantically clawed for him.
She watched Greyson struggling against three officers, his eyes locked on hers even as they forced him to the ground. Rage reflected in his eyes as the butt of a rifle landed in the center of her abdomen.
She buckled over as the air vanished from her lungs, choking as she tried to draw in oxygen.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Greyson roared as a fist connected with his jaw.
The sound of his nose snapping filled the air as a black bag descended over her head, plunging her into darkness. She screamed, a wordless sound of pure hate, thrashing against the hands that held her. Then she screamed for him, his name slipping over her lips, frantic and terrified as she felt herself being lifted from the ground and carried away.
Her name echoed back to her, his voice penetrating through the fabric as she reached out blindly in the dark, fingers grasping for something, for someone, forhim.
Lirawatchedtheeveninglight filter through the high windows of Callum’s apartment, painting long golden fingers across the polished floor. The shadows had grown longer since she’d arrived, stretching toward her like an ominous clock.
No word from Greyson or Shadera, no message—nothing but the hollow reassurances Callum offered with decreasing conviction as time passed. She traced the rim of her untouched whiskey glass, focusing on the cool touch of crystal against her fingertip rather than the knot of dread tightening in her stomach.
“They’re fine,” Callum said from across the room, not looking up from the security feeds he monitored on his tablet. “Your father likes to make people wait. It’s a power play.”
“You don’t know that,” Lira replied, her voice flat as she glanced down at her mask resting on the side table. “Something about this feels wrong.”
Callum set down his tablet with a sigh, running a hand through his thick brown hair. He’d been pacing, checking his networks, calling in favors to gather scraps of information—all without result. “It’s still early,” he insisted, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his concern. “If something had happened, we’d have heard. The Heart loves its gossip.”
Lira didn’t respond. Her father was many things, but predictable wasn’t one of them. Not anymore. Not since the growing unrest in the rings had begun eating away at his control, at his power. A cornered animal was most dangerous when it sensed its territory slipping away.
Callum moved to sit beside her on the plush couch, close enough that she could feel his warmth but not touching. He’d been careful with her since morning—since she’d put a bullet in Marcus Webb’s head, since the truth about her past had spilled from her lips like poison finally purged. The careful distance between them now was new, unfamiliar, as if he feared she might shatter at his touch.
