Blaidd suddenly looked up, and my hands froze mid-sip.
His eyes were deep blue one second—then they flashed to Fenrir’s bronze. The colour shift was instant, electric. The faint sparkle in them was mesmerising.
Bouda nearly made me smack my face against the glass.
Decorum, my arse.
Blaidd’s lips curled to one side as he released Anthony’s shirt. He straightened—but when I glanced down, I saw he still had a fistful of Anthony’s hair. I watched as he turned and walked away, dragging him across the ground behind him, kicking and screaming.
I stroked my belly.
The world had better watch out for our unique brood.
Our legacy.
???
The screams blossomed between each strike of the hammer hitting the nail. The sound of metal against metal made me glance towards the garage. That did not sound like ordinary nails that he was hammering.
He wouldn't let me go in, so I spent most of my day in the kitchen eavesdropping on the interrogation.
The utility room door opened, and he paused to look at me. There was blood spatter on his hands and arms, with a lighter spotting on his chest and face. He sniffed.
“Dinner smells nice,” he murmured.
“Food is ready. I was waiting for you.”
“Let me get washed up,” he said, striding across the kitchen.
I nodded and waited until I heard him sprint up the stairs. I tossed the tea towel on the counter and headed to the garage.
Anthony was strung up to the metal frame for the garage door. Beneath his feet were two thick slabs of tree trunks with trails of blood running down them. Blaidd had hammered thick nails into his feet, binding each foot to the wood.
“Please,” Anthony whimpered.
His fancy shirt and suit were gone.
“I doubt you’d have had any mercy for an innocent child,” I said, my voice cold and harsh.“At least now you know what it feels like to be violated as an adult.”
His tears meant nothing to me.
With my curiosity satisfied, I turned to leave, ignoring his cries for help.
???
He kept staring at me while we ate. His hair was still damp, a royal-blue T-shirt clinging to his shoulders. Every so often, Anthony’s sobs or broken pleas drifted through the house—but neither of us flinched.
“I’m arranging a raid at the location he gave me,” Blaidd said, lifting his glass.
I nodded.“And his client?”
“He won’t be prime minister for much longer,” he replied casually, popping a chunk of baby sweetcorn into his mouth.
My eyes widened.
Our prime minister?
He stood before I could say a word.
