“That wasn’t the deal. You were to bring the necklace to me, andyou didn’t.” Ward’s eyes shifted to Kane, then narrowed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Kane grasped his own gun with trembling hands, pointing it at Ward. He’d grabbed it almost without thinking. “Don’t you hurt him.”
“Kane,” Fletcher snarled, the single syllable laced with a fear Kane didn’t deserve.
Ward laughed, a genuinely surprised sound. “You make any move to pull that trigger, and by the time you do, Master Collins will already be dead.”
Kane’s wild gaze found Zaria’s again—just for a moment—and he watched the rest of the color drain from her face. He wondered what his own looked like.
“Canziano.” Ward’s voice was sharp now. “Do notmove.”
Kane didn’t move.
“That’s what I thought,” Ward said, the calm lightness returning as quickly as it had fled. “Now put the gun down. Control your emotions. I taught you better than this, didn’t I?”
Kane did not put down the gun. He thought about what he’d said to Zaria the night before he’d first kissed her.
I dream of killing him, you know.… Sometimes, when I watch other people die, I imagine they wear his face.
Resentment flared in Kane anew, intertwining with a wild energy. He felt unstoppable. Time ticked to a halt, and consequences ceased to mean anything. When he spoke, he scarcely recognized his own voice.
“You think you can shoot before I do?”
It was as much a challenge as a threat, and in his periphery, he saw Fletcher blanch. Ward, however, frowned. “Stop this, Canziano.”
“Answer the question.”
“Do I think I can shoot before you do?” The kingpin gave another harsh laugh. “Of course I do, fool boy. You should have seen how quickly I shot your traitor parents. Now, say goodbye to—”
But Kane never heard Ward say Fletcher’s name.
He shot first.
ZARIA
ZARIA CRINGED AS LIGHT STREAKED THROUGH HER WORKSHOP.
She turned away from the scene before her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stomach watching Fletcher die. It would beher faultif Ward killed him. She’d been willing to take the risk, horrible person that she was, but having to see it was something else entirely. She’d never imagined being here to watch it happen. She was supposed to be long gone by now.
But it wasn’t Fletcher whom the magic ripped apart.
It was Ward.
Her back was pressed into the wooden chair so firmly that it was beginning to ache, though Zaria barely felt it. An acrid scent filled the air. She found herself unable to move as Ward gasped, a hand snapping to clutch his chest as blood spilled from the wound. His widened eyes fixed on Kane, betrayal and disbelief etched into every line of his face. For the barest slip of a moment, Zaria could almostimagine he was a father staring at his son. A father who hadn’t known how to love and now was forced to confront what he’d created. His expression was one Zaria would never forget.
Then he collapsed to the floor. Crimson pooled around him, leaking toward the place where Zaria stood. She stared over his body into a wholly different face—one she no longer recognized.
Kane’s jaw was taut, the veins in his neck stark and bruise-like. There was something cadaverous about him in the candlelight. It coaxed flames into his black, black eyes and contoured his body in furious orange. He still held the gun out before him, though his hand no longer shook.
Zaria was struck by the sudden realization that she was going to be next.
“Kane,no.” No sooner had acceptance replaced the fear than Fletcher’s voice cut through the oppressive silence. He shoved Kane aside, moving to stand in front of Zaria. Kane stumbled slightly, but his expression didn’t change. It was as if a mask of impassivity had been painted onto his face. He still hadn’t looked down at Ward.
Zaria straightened, heart pounding. She couldn’t understand why Fletcher was stopping Kane from shooting her, and she didn’t ask.
Because it was Fletcher, though, Kane faltered.
She watched as he crouched down, his gaze roving over his adoptive father’s motionless form. Watched as his fingers curved clawlike toward the kingpin’s neck.
