He studied me for a long moment, the silence between us cold enough to raise frost. “You’d sell your daughter for a piece of territory?”
“I’d sell myself for a larger kingdom. My daughter is a casualty, not a currency.”
He raised his glass. “You’re more honest than your predecessors.”
“I outlived them for a reason.”
He sipped again, the wine or whatever it was staining his lips. “You’ll have your vote, Declan. But know this: the day you fail me, I will drink you dry.”
I stood, brushing imaginary dust from my sleeves. “The day you can, you may.”
He didn’t answer. He just watched me leave, the glint of his eyes following until I was out of sight.
Five votes. The ledger was set.
I walked out into the night, the city below a tangle of light and noise, and wondered for the first time if I’d traded too much fora win. But that was the curse of kings: you never knew until the blood was on the floor.
Tomorrow, Savannah would learn what I already knew.
There was no such thing as a happy ending.
Chapter 22
Menace
The knock came at 12:03 a.m., just as the digital clock on the nightstand blinked its second colon and erased the hour before. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was final. The kind of knock that changed fates, ended families, started wars. I felt it in my sternum before I heard it. Savannah slept with her back to me, red hair riot over the pillow, her breathing shallow and even. She didn’t stir, not even when I slid out of bed and padded naked to the door. My body was already on edge, mate mark burning, heart running double time.
I cracked the door an inch, but Bronc forced it the rest of the way, face braced for what he’d have to say. King Rafe was behind him, beard shadowed and jaw locked so tight the lines cut deeper than I remembered. They wore the same expression—grim, tired, like men about to dig a grave in wet dirt.
“What is it?” I asked, already knowing.
Bronc didn’t answer, just jerked his head for me to follow. I pulled on a pair of jeans, and we moved down the dim corridor, past the soulless council art and the dustless carpets, until the door to the stairwell clicked shut behind us. I could smell the stress on Rafe, the cold sweat behind his ears, the sour tang of coffee on his breath.
Bronc stood with arms folded, making himself the wall between me and the news.
“Declan’s got the votes,” he said. The words were flat, but I could see the anger curdling under each one. “Midwest, East, three of the four witch clans, plus the swing demon and the west Vamp. Dominic has the Supernatural Council wrapped tight.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “If they call it as expected, they’ll strip the mate bond by dusk. Maybe sooner. Then they ship Savannah to the lake house until the wedding ceremony.”
I wanted to ask if it was a joke, if this was just some game of chicken and we were still in control of the car. But the way Rafe kept glancing at the exit, the way Bronc’s hands fisted and unfisted, told me there was no bluff here. They had counted the bodies, lined the coffins, prepared for a defeat they’d always suspected might come.
I felt the old self wanting to howl, to split the walls with a rage that would bring the council running. I wanted to take Bronc’s head in both hands and break it open until his doubt ran out. Instead, the anger passed through me like a hot wind, and left behind a vacuum. My hands went cold; my vision tunneled.
It was Rafe who spoke first. “There’s always a chance, but—” He stopped, searching my face. “You good, Menace? Because you look like a man about to shoot up a police station.”
“I’m good,” I said, and heard the death in it. “Better than good. I’m ready.”
Bronc shot a look at Rafe, then back to me. “We’ll file the injunction, but there’s not much precedent. If they strip the mark, the bond won’t kill you. But it’ll—”
“I know what it does,” I said. I thought of Bronc when Harrison destroyed Juliet’s mark, how he’d almost lost his mind. The way he couldn’t think straight. But Savannah would have a replacement mark. I wondered if the witchcraft would leave her hating me. It was bad. There was no question.
Rafe stepped in, voice low. “I need you to stay put tonight. No heroics. No phone calls. Tomorrow, if there’s a move to make, I’ll make it. We’re not losing this fight in the dark.”
I nodded. “Copy.”
Bronc hesitated, then touched my shoulder. “If you need to talk to Juliet—”
“No,” I said. “Let her sleep. If I need her, she’ll know.”
