I lift my chin, meeting his stare with every ounce of venom I have left.
“I hate you. With every fucking part of me. He wasmineto kill. You had no right.”
His eyes flicker—just for a second—but then that smug, infuriating smirk creeps back. The one I want to carve off his stupid face.
He takes another step toward me. I don’t move. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. Not again.
“You want to know what I did to him?” His voice drops, low and taunting. “I’ll tell you. Every detail. How he begged. How he cried. How he choked on his own teeth after pissing himself.”
My nails bite into my palms so hard I feel skin split.
“Everything he did to you. I carved into him. Worse.”
“Worse? You assault me, humiliate me, betray me, hand me over naked and bleeding—then suddenly you’re my fucking avenger?” I shove his hand away when he tries to touch my face. “Don’t. You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to pretend you’re anything but the same sick bastard you killed.”
“You’re wasting your breath, kitten. That fire in your chest? That’s me. I’m under your skin now. You’llneverclaw me out.”
“I’m going to kill you, Priest.”
“Good.” His smile widens. “Make it hurt.”
I shove him hard. He barely moves—just laughs under his breath.
“Hurry up and get stronger,” he says, turning his back on me without a glance. “We get your father first. Then, if you’re still breathing, you can take your shot.”
The bastard laughs, walking to the living room with the others.
The bunker’s filling fast.Sovereigns from other Sections answering Arsen’s distress call. Loyalty runs deep for some of them. Or maybe it’s just the promise of blood.
We’ve barely scratched the surface of Sterling’s encrypted files, but it’s already clear he isn’t working alone. We just don’t know how deep this rot runs. The other High Chancellors? The Council? No one can be trusted. Not yet.
Sterling’s been calling us traitors. Had our statuses revoked. Kill-on-sight orders. Me. Raze. Arsen. Wolff. All labeled threats to the Order we bled for.
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so fucking close to snapping.
We can’t go public. Can’t reach out to the other Sections. Not with the target on our backs. Sterling has influence. He controls the narrative. He’s hiding something big, and Lev might be the only one who knows what it is.
Arsen’s betting everything on that.
He left this morning. Took a covert team and disappeared into the fucking ice.
Facility 42.
He told Arlo we were still gathering intel. Lied straight to her face. Said we didn’t know if Lev was alive. But we do. He’s in there.
What we don’t know is if there’s anything left of him.
Facility 42 isn’t just some high-security holding cell. It’s a graveyard for Sovereign ghosts. No sunlight. No clocks. No names. Just concrete, cold, and madness. They strip you down to nothing. Just pain and torture without reason.
So yeah—Lev Voronin might still be breathing, but that doesn’t mean shit. Not in that place. For all we know, he’s already broken. Mind gone. Body half-dead. Another empty shadow, rotting in the dark.
And while Arsen’s out there risking everything to get him back, I’m here.
A sitting fucking duck.
Pacing this bunker, waiting for news that may never come. I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Can’t breathe without thinking about her. Without hearing her scream in the back of my skull.
I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.
