Daughter. Son. Pregnant. Daughter. Son. Pregnant.
Because I am insane. They thought I was before, but they have no idea what I’m capable of now. They have no idea of the lengths I’ll go to – what I’ll burn – especially to get back what’s mine.
Kayla. Pregnant. Gone. Mine.
I refuse to even consider anyone else might be the father. She is mine. Therefore that baby is mine. And worlds will burn until they’re back in my arms.
The rage bubbles beneath my skin, a venomous storm waiting to erupt. Kayla. Pregnant. The words gnaw at my mind, scraping at the thin thread holding me together. The idea of someone else putting a claim on her makes me want to rip the world apart. She’s mine. Always has been.
Seytan’s voice won’t leave my head. Her pitiful whine about their daughter’s disappearance. She’s practically trembling in her pearls, wringing her hands over the mess she’s made letting Kayla get away with Doctor Callaway. Weak-minded fool. She let Kayla slip through her fingers and now Kayla’s out there, pregnant and vulnerable.
Except the longer I stand in this office, the clearer it becomes: Kayla didn’t “slip” away. Kayla doesn’tslipanywhere. Someonetookher.
I won’t wallow. I won’t hesitate. I’m deadly fucking Nightshade. The mere mention of my name strikes fear into men’s hearts. I’ve destroyed empires, torn apart families, watched societies topple and burn while I stood in the ashes, breathing smoke like incense.
They think they know what I’m capable of? They have no idea.
Because they took what’s mine.
The desk under my hands splinters as my nails dig deeper. The room blurs; only Kayla stays in focus. Her face when shedefied me. Her lips twisting into a smirk when I pushed too far. The fire in her eyes.
She’s always been mine. Always.
I can’t stop picturing her belly swollen with my child. The image sends a sick, twisted pulse of satisfaction through me. I’ll find her. I’ll protect what’s mine. Whoever took her…they’ll beg for mercy long before I’m through with them.
I see her in flashes now – hallucinations. Her hair brushing my arm. Her laughter echoing down a corridor that isn’t there. Her scent – warm, wild, defiant – ghosting across the sterile air. Each flicker is another blade twisting in my gut.
“Where the fuck is she?” I snarl. My voice cuts the room, low and dangerous.
Seytan’s shoulders twitch at the sound – tiny, human, involuntary – before she straightens so fast it looks rehearsed. Forced. False. Right now, she’s only alive because she’s my only link to Kayla.
“I don’t know,” she snaps, voice sharp and unapologetic. “Doctor Callaway is gone. Start there.”
The wrong answer.
I close the distance deliberately; my shadow falls over her. She remains unmoved, chin lifted, eyes cool and steady. But steady isn’t calm. Steady is calculation. Steady is someone who knows far more than she’s telling me.
Valentine stands in the corner, tense, phone half raised – alert, efficient, already preparing contingencies.
“You’re going to find out,” I say, voice cold as a blade. “And when you do, you’ll tell me exactly where she is. Because if you don’t—” I lean close, lips brushing her ear, “—I’ll make what happens next feel like heaven compared to the hell I’ll rain down on you.”
The words hang there, sharp enough to bleed on. Her gaze locks on mine – cool, unblinking. No one stands toe-to-toe with Seytan without backing down. Except Kayla.
And now me.
“Don’t test me,” I hiss, venom dripping.
She tilts her head, lips curving into that knowing, poisonous smirk that always sets my teeth on edge. The harsh fluorescent lights crown her with a false halo.
She raises one hand lazily. “Careful, Mr Night,” she murmurs, voice like silk hiding a garrote. “This is my kingdom. You’re just a guest.”
Guest.
The word digs under my skin like a hooked blade.
Valentine speaks suddenly into his phone – clipped, tense. “We need an aerial search. No, I said need. Get me a pilot cleared for emergency lift.”
He’s already following the orders I haven’t voiced.
