For a few precious minutes, there was no Vow ceremony, no Heart, no Boundary. Just two broken people finding a moment of peace in the midst of chaos.
“Is it too hot?” he asked, hands still wrapped around her as if he were scared to let her go.
She shook her head slightly, eyes closing as the warmth began to ease some of the tension from her battered body. “It’s perfect,” she whispered.
Greyson remained kneeling beside the tub, watching as the water turned pink with diluted blood, as her face softened slightly with the first real relief she’d experienced in days. Something twisted in hischest at the sight—something that felt dangerously close to forgiveness.
His brother’s ghost seemed to hover in the steam filled room, a presence impossible to ignore. Shadera had killed him—unknowingly, yes, but the fact remained. His blood was on her hands. Greyson should hate her for that. Should want nothing to do with her. Should walk away and leave her to face whatever fate awaited them both.
But he couldn’t. The hate that had burned so fiercely in his cell had cooled, transformed into something more complex, more painful. He looked at her now and saw not his brother’s killer, but a woman who had been used just as he had been. A pawn in his father’s game, manipulated into becoming the instrument of Brooker’s death without ever knowing the truth.
Could he forgive that? He didn’t know. The wound was still too raw, the loss too profound. But he knew he couldn’t continue to blame her for it.
“I should go,” he said finally, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from where it clung to her body. “Give you some privacy.”
Her eye opened, finding his face with an intensity that made his breath catch. For a moment, he thought she might ask him to stay. Part of him hoped she would. But she simply nodded, another of those small, careful movements designed to minimize pain, emotional now. Not physical.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier than before. “For helping me.”
Greyson stood, his muscles protesting after so long in one position. He moved toward the door, each step taking him farther from her. At the threshold, he paused, his hand on the doorknob, his back to her. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around, to look at her again. If he did, he might not find the strength to leave.
“They are going to die today, the Veyra that touched you,” he breathed. “And then I am going to kill my father.”
Chapter thirty-six
11 AM
Callum’sofficehadtransformedinto a war room. Maps covered the polished surface of his desk, marked with entry points, security rotations, and escape routes. Weapons were arranged neatly on a side table—sleek, expensive models that would never be traced back to him if things went wrong. Three different communication devices sat before him, each connecting to a different line of communication. One for the Veyra comms, one for his men, one for the rebellion.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. His heart thundered against his ribs, but his hands remained perfectly still. Years of practice, of negotiating with the most dangerous people in New Found Haven, had taught him to conceal his fear beneath a veneer of calm.
His eyes flicked to the screen, showing the plaza where the Vow ceremony would take place. Veyra officers patrolled in regular intervals, their masks gleaming in the morning sun. Somewhere among them, blending perfectly, were Jaeger’s mercenaries—Daggermouths disguised as security, as staff, as innocent bystanders. The perfect predators, hidden in plain sight.
They were so close to ending this. So close he could taste it. He lifted his tablet to his ear and listened for one ring until Jaeger’s voice cut through.
“Status report,” Jaeger said without any pleasantries.
“Surveillance is clear,” Callum confirmed, typing a command into his keyboard that would begin the loop he’d programmed into the Heart’s security system. “The cameras are blind to the Plaza now. Get your snipers in position.”
“Understood,” Jaeger replied, not waiting for a response as the line went quiet.
Callum swallowed, imagining the scene playing out in the plaza. Jaeger’s people would be drawing their weapons now, securing positions, preparing for the moment when Greyson and Shadera would be brought out for the ceremony. No one watching would notice anything amiss—not until it was too late.
He set his tablet down, reaching for the Veyra transmitter. He took a deep breath, clearing his throat before pressing down on the button.
“Central Command to Plaza Unit, confirm status of the Executioner.” Callum modulated his voice, adopting the flat, emotionless tone of a Veyra officer.
There was a pause, longer than there should have been.
Callum’s fingers tightened around the transmitter. Had he made a mistake? Used the wrong code phrase?
Then Mikel’s voice came through, perfectly composed. “Executioner secure. Moving to plaza in forty-five minutes with subject.”
Subject.
Shadera. A woman reduced to a word.
Guilt twisted his gut. He’d manipulated Greyson with the unshared knowledge of Brooker’s survival. Had pulled his best friend’s strings to convince him to get close to her. He knew at some point they’d need her on their side, and used Greyson as a pawn.
