Wounds she had offered herself up to receive.
The thought still made her dizzy. Three days had passed since she had made that choice, and she still couldn’t fully comprehend her own decision. Whatever tenuous thread hadbeen forming between them had solidified into something she couldn’t name—refusedto name.
Something that terrified her more than any monster she’d encountered in the Wild, or any of the more mundanely shaped monsters that walked the metropolis.
“Ready?” Raziel murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only she could hear.
She met his gaze, taking in the perfect facade he’d constructed. His suit was impeccable, his posture relaxed but alert. No outward sign remained of the silver bullets that had torn through his flesh, or the blood starvation that had nearly killed him. Only she knew how much effort it took him to maintain the veneer of strength.
“Yeah. Sure. As I’ll ever be,” she replied, matching his quiet tone.
The grand doors to the main hall opened, revealing a gathering of Nostroms. Not the full council this time, but the inner circle—Volencia seated regally at the head of a long dining table, Mael at her right, Lana at her left. A handful of lesser family members filled the remaining seats, their expressions a careful blend of interest and wariness.
“The conquering heroes return,” Volencia’s voice cut through the room like a blade. The sarcasm was thick. “We were beginning to wonder if you’d joined Braen in the afterlife.”
Nadi kept her expression fixed in the deferential mask she’d crafted for Monica—a blend of nervousness and determination that seemed to satisfy the Nostroms’ expectations.
“My apologies for the delay, Mother.” Raziel tucked his hands into his coat pockets. His tone was one that hovered perfectly between respect and confidence. “We thought it best to ensure we weren’t followed by any of Braen’s loyalists. He had no knowledge of the wedding, so we thought it prudent that our involvement wasn’t traceable to the rest of the family and couldjust be blamed on my past history. We lay low in case we were caught.”
“That was wise,” Mael offered, his golden eyes studying them both with unsettling intensity. “The Rosovs are notoriously unforgiving, even to their own kind. And while his siblings asked us to be rid of him, the others were in the dark.”
Lana’s lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes. “Do join us. We were just discussing the wedding preparations. Everything has gone exactly to plan.” The sarcasm was so thick Nadi could almost have cut it with a knife. “Braen’s death has left the city reeling, and the turmoil made Zabriel and I’s wedding theperfectsolution to make sure everyone came out of this stronger and richer.”
Raziel guided Nadi to the two empty seats near the other end of the table—positioned just far enough from Volencia to emphasize their current standing in the family hierarchy. A servant immediately appeared, pouring bloodwine into crystal goblets before them.
“To successful ventures,” Volencia raised her glass in a toast that felt more like a threat than a celebration. “And to Braen Rosov’s long-overdue demise.”
The gathered vampires echoed the sentiment, their voices a cold chorus that sent a chill down Nadi’s spine. She lifted her glass and pretended to sip, careful not to actually consume the contents. The last thing she needed was to reveal her disgust for blood.
“Tell us, brother,” Lana leaned forward, her magenta eyes gleaming with barely concealed excitement. “How did our dear friend Braen meet his end?”
Raziel’s expression remained neutral, though Nadi caught the slight tension in his jaw. “Cleanly. As instructed.”
“Cleanly?” Mael laughed, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “That’s hardly your style, Serpent.”
“I can be efficient when necessary.” Raziel’s voice was like cold iron.
Volencia tapped a long nail against her glass. “I’m told there was quite a mess in the gardens. That you were injured, Raziel.” Her eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t sound particularly ‘clean’ to me. Sounds terribly sloppy.”
Nadi felt Raziel’s leg press against hers underneath the table—a warning. They had anticipated this. The Nostroms had spies everywhere.
“I was badly wounded,” Raziel admitted with practiced regret. “Braen was better prepared than your intelligence suggested.”
“And yet,” Volencia’s gaze shifted to Nadi, “here you both are. Alive and well. How…fortunate.”
The implication hung in the air like a guillotine blade. They weren’t supposed to both return. One or both of them had been meant to die in that garden alongside Braen. That much was painfully obvious.
“Indeed.” Raziel’s voice betrayed nothing. “Monica proved herself quite valuable. Her abilities were instrumental to our escape.”
All eyes turned to her, and Nadi channeled every ounce of Monica’s personality as she lowered her gaze demurely. “I simply did what was needed, Lady Volencia.”
“How modest!” Lana giggled, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Perhaps you’ll share the details with me later, sister. I do so love a good story.”
“Of course.” Nadi knew that refusal wasn’t an option.
Volencia waved a hand dismissively. “The deed is done, regardless of the methods. Zabriel seems pleased with the outcome, which is what matters.” Her cold eyes focused on Raziel again. “He speaks highly of your loyalty to family, my son. A quality I’ve sometimes questioned.”
“Family is everything, Mother.” Raziel’s lie was so convincing that even Nadi almost believed it.
