I stared into the bottom of my glass, waiting for the last drop of courage to dissolve. Then I set it down, wiped my mouth.
Whatever it took. Whatever it cost.
Chapter 24
Savannah
Council headquarters had the smell of old books and even older violence, the kind that soaked into the stone and never washed out. I sat at the end of the meeting table, wrists resting atop the polished oak, the trembling in my hands a secret only the wood would remember. Above me, the arched ceiling dwarfed us all. Centuries of plotting had stained it with candle soot and a whisper. At that hour, we were the only ones in the room—Juliet, Lucia, and me—alone with the aftermath and the fear that tomorrow would bring the end of everything I’d started to want.
Juliet was the definition of unshakable, with crossed arms and ankles, nails painted a shade of navy so dark it was nearly black. She watched me with the patience of a mother wolf, but every so often she would twitch, as if she wanted to bite the air itself. Lucia Kozlov, in contrast, was perched on the arm of a high-backed leather chair, her black curls a wild cloud that haloed her porcelain skin. She kept flashing her teeth, as if daring the world to bite first.
The longer we waited, the more the room pressed in. I watched the red pulse of my own finger where it tapped a steady rhythm on the table’s edge. Even now, my body wanted to move, to run, to never stop.
“You’re going to wear hole through that table, love,” Lucia said, accent thick as old blood. “This room survives assassination attempt, vampire wars, but not nervous shifter girl, da?”
I tried to laugh, but it snagged in my throat. “You can go if you want. I’m not very good company.”
Juliet put a hand over mine, her touch as cool and unyielding as marble. “I think you’re exactly the company we need.” She glanced at the door. “They said it would only be a few minutes.”
“Bronc and Rafe are probably fighting over who is the talking one,” Lucia said. “You know how males are. They want to appear decisive.” She slid off the chair and stood in front of me, blocking out the chandelier. “But that’s not what you think about? You think about Bridger.”
I didn’t answer.
Juliet’s voice softened, losing its edge. “Is it that bad?”
I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to say it wasn’t, that I was just tired, just hungry, just a little cold. But the words would have been a lie, and I was tired of lies.
“It’s worse,” I said. “I keep seeing him dead.”
The table was long enough for ten, but in that moment it felt like an altar, and I was the only thing on it worth offering.
Lucia stepped closer, her heels making no sound on the stone. “He is strong. Stronger than any here. Maybe stronger than even you think.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I said. My voice came out hollow, barely a whisper. “It’s my father. And Callum. They’ll cheat. They always cheat.”
Juliet nodded, as if this was the most logical thing in the world. “They might try. But the challenge is public. Judges will surround the arena.”
“Dominic is still king,” I said. “He could have anything hidden. Poisons. Traps. Witchcraft. The last time my father had an enemy, he buried her in concrete and used her bones as a garden ornament.”
“Sounds like my kind of party,” Lucia said, but there was a hardness behind the joke. “I will be there. My father too. If anyone tries things, they answer to us.”
I looked up into her eyes, surprised by the ferocity there. “Why are you so invested?”
“Because you are friend,” Lucia said. “And because your mate saved my life once, long ago. Debt is debt.” She glanced at Juliet. “Besides, your father is dick.”
Juliet smiled, just a fraction, and squeezed my hand. “It’s not just the men who stand with you, Savannah. It’s all of us. Iron Valor is family.”
I nodded. “I just… I can’t lose him. Not now. Not after everything.”
Juliet leaned in, lowering her voice so only I could hear. “You need to trust in the Goddess. She wouldn’t have given you Bridger just to rip him away. That’s why you’re going to survive this,” she said. “You’re the only one who’s not afraid to say what scares you. The rest of them, even Bronc, they bury it. You let it out.” She tapped my shoulder, right over the mate mark, which still throbbed with feelings of love and concern. “That’s what makes you dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I shook my head. “Some days I can barely think.”
“Exactly,” she said. “And yet, here you are.”
Lucia straightened, rolled her neck, and popped her knuckles one by one. “Let them cheat. Let them try. Menace is not so easy to kill.”
The door opened then, letting in the scent of cigar smoke and the rustle of expensive wool. Bronc led the way, his expression thunderous, followed by King Rafe, who looked more priest than king in his charcoal suit and white shirt. Both men took seats at the far end, but Bronc’s gaze pinned me with all the weight of a freight train.
