Relieved.
Relieved that Thane had found Kieran before Kieran could hurt anyone else. Relieved that the bullet that should have gone through Thane’s chest had missed. Relieved that he’d fought alongside him, not behind him. That they’d done it together.
That he was still standing.
Thane looked at him then, face unreadable. Not gloating. Not even triumphant. Just steady.
“You good?” he asked, voice low.
Riven nodded, even though his jaw ached and his hands were trembling slightly. “Yeah.”
Thane gave Kieran one final look, as if memorizing the pain etched across his face.
Then he turned and continued down the corridor.
Riven followed, casting one last glance behind. Kieran lay in a mess of blood and defeat, arms twitching. Riven had expected to feel something more—vindicated, maybe. But instead there was only a hollow weight in his chest, as though some longstanding ledger had just been marked settled.
Chapter 72
As they moved deeper into the estate, the sounds of fighting grew more distant, replaced by a tense, unnatural quiet that pressed in on all sides. The marble floors gleamed beneath their feet, untouched here—too untouched. Riven kept close behind Thane, pistol still in hand, every muscle tight with anticipation.
Thane spoke without turning. “There’s one place I can think of where Caerel might’ve taken her. Unfortunately, it’s also the easiest place to set a trap if there’s an insider.” His voice was grim. “The old ceremonial chamber beneath the ancestral wing. It’s isolated, shielded. No panic room, but defensible.”
Riven’s brows knit. “You really think Caerel would risk bringing her there?”
“I think if he’s counting on inside knowledge, it’s the perfect place. And Kieran being part of this only makes me more certain.” Thane slowed to a halt at the end of the corridor, glancing around the next bend like he already knew what waited. “This is the path that leads to it.”
He turned to Riven, his expression cold and detached, as if bracing himself for something. “Listen to me. Whatever happens beyond this point…if I tell you to run, you run.”
Riven stared at him. “Thane—”
“I’m serious.” Thane’s voice cut through the dim hallway like a blade. “You don’t argue. You don’t hesitate. You run.”
Riven’s grip tightened on the pistol. “You know I’ve never been good at following orders I don’t like.”
Thane’s mouth twitched—not quite a smile. “Then get good at it. Because I want you alive.”
For a breath, neither of them moved. Just the two of them in the corridor, the silence thick with things left unsaid.
Then Thane turned back toward the bend and started forward. And Riven followed.
They didn’t get far.
Just beyond the bend, in a stretch of hallway lit only by emergency fixtures flickering low and red, Riven saw a smear of blood first—then the figure slumped against the wall. Asterian.
Thane was already moving, dropping to his knees beside his brother, one hand braced on Asterian’s shoulder, the other checking the wound at his abdomen. Blood soaked through the fine fabric of his shirt, pooling beneath him. His breathing was shallow, labored.
Asterian’s eyes fluttered open at Thane’s touch. When he saw who it was, a faint, hoarse laugh escaped him. “I should’ve known you weren’t dead. Too damned stubborn.”
Thane’s jaw tightened, but the corners of his mouth quirked faintly. “Did I ruin your day?”
“Little bit.” Asterian coughed, winced. “Thought I’d finally get the office.”
Riven hovered just behind them, tension twisting in his chest. This was how brothers talked in House Virellien, he realized—sharp-edged and soaked in blood.
Thane pressed harder on the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. “Where is she? Where’s Mother?”
Asterian’s head leaned back against the wall, throat tight with pain. “Caerel’s taken her…toward the vault. I tried to stophim. One of the guards turned—stabbed me, dumped me here like garbage.” He gritted his teeth. “Didn’t even get a chance to gut the bastard.”
