I stay on the edge of her bed for a long time, watching the moonlight shift across the floor.
Whatever she saw down there…whoeverkept her, it wasn’t just for fun. It was for a greater purpose. Figuring out what that purpose is may just be what leads us to break this wide open.
The summons comes justafter dawn, Graves at the bedroom door, voice flat. “The King wants you in the library. Now.”
I pull on jeans and a black hoodie, trying not to wake up DK or Arianette, who are still deep asleep. The House is quiet as it tends to be on a Saturday, hallways dim, the air thick with the scent of old wood and lingering smoke from the bonfire two nights ago.
The library door is ajar, fire already crackling low in the massivehearth. The King stands at the far window, back to me, unmasked in the early morning hours, a black silhouette framed by gray morning light filtering through leaded glass.
He doesn’t turn when I enter. “Close the door.”
I do. The click sounds final.
He faces me then, hands clasped behind his back. “I wanted to thank you,” he says, voice calm. “For taking on the role of punisher last night. It was necessary. You carried it out well.”
“You’re welcome.” My jaw tightens. “I apologize for going against you, but–”
“Don’t explain. Your job is to take care of the Baroness, and you’re doing it well.”
I stand there for a moment, weighing my next words. When he doesn't instantly dismiss me, I say, “Can I ask why you keep putting me in this position? Why do you keep letting me hurt her when you know what it does to me?”
He studies me for a long moment, eyes impassive, but I feel the weight of his gaze like it’s a physical thing.
“Learning to control your impulsivity is one of the most important things in life,” he says finally. “A man without control is a man without power.”
I almost laugh, but hold it back. “I never feel powerful. That monster inside, it’s running things. Leashed or not, it’s always there, pulling my strings.”
He steps closer, his expensive shoes gleaming in the firelight. “I told you before that you were chosen for a reason. You, DK, Arianette, you’ve all brushed death. Moments where your heart stopped, where the other side reached out and tried to claim you.”
I go still, not wanting to think about that time in my life.
“But you’re different, Hunter,” he continues, voice quieter now. “You’ve tasted it twice. Once when you almost lost your life. Once when you tried to take another’s.”
The air leaves my lungs.
Neither moment is one I’m proud of and I don’t understand why he’d see those as strengths. As reasons to elevate me.
Before I can ask, the memory slams into me, unbidden and vivid.
A single bed in a dim room. A girl lying still, pale skin marked with my teeth on her hips. Her bra, cheap black lace, wrapped tight around her throat. Her eyes wide, then glassy. The silence after.
It’s gone as fast as it came, a flash I can’t outrun, and when I blink back to the present, the King is watching me. Closer now, only a few feet away. Like he saw it, too.
Like he knows exactly what I’ve done.
The fire pops in the hearth, loud in the silence.
“My wife needs a firm hand and strict boundaries,” he says, voice steady, almost conversational. “That urge for wildness still runs in her blood, the vows did nothing to change that. But I have no doubt that together we’ll make her into the kind of Baroness the House of Night needs.”
I sit with that for a moment, the words settling heavy in my chest. He’s right about the wildness, I’ve felt it in her, seen it flare. But the rest… shaping her, like she’s clay instead of a person who’s already been broken too many times.
I shift my weight, throat tight. “She woke up last night,” I say finally. “A nightmare or memory, and she started talking.”
He doesn’t move, but I feel the pinprick of his attention behind the mask.
“She said she was underground after they took her. Dirt floor. Running water close by. Old rusted bars. Food came on trays slid through a slot, but she was unable to see any faces.”
“Because she can’t remember or because they were hidden?”
