“Let him go or else I will fucking murder you!” Rook bellows.
“Kill him,” Nathanial encourages.
“If you let them kill my brother, Lucian, it will be the end of you,” I spit.
Lucian is standing behind the pulpit with his hand wrapped around the edge of the wood. I’m not stupid enough to think Lucian will be easy to kill. I know there’s a very real possibility I won’t be able to. His abilities are so far superior to anything I’ve ever fought before.
But I will do whatever I have to fucking do for my brothers.
“Lucian, I said kill him!” Nathanial calls again, surprising me.
I expected his directive was for my father, to kill Kane, but evidently, it’s not.
Instead, it’s a plea for a cheat—for their precious eldest brother to use his powers to earn the advantage. “Do some of that voodoo shit and end these fuckers, Luc!” Nathanial demands.
Having experienced Lucian’s pain-rendering firsthand, I brace myself for the feeling with a tightening of my abdomen. I know it’ll bring me to my knees, and if he wishes, choke the life out of me completely.
But it never comes.
Nathanial grabs his chest suddenly, backing away long enough for Rook to catch Cassian off guard and take back control. He charges, freeing Kane, and then besting Cassian with a quick and deadly snap of his neck.
One Wrath—my father—is dead.
Three more to go.
“Why, thank you, Rook,” Lucian says inexplicably, rounding the pulpit and walking slowly toward Nathanial.
I know Nathanial is in pain, and I know I’m not, but the precious two seconds it’s taken for so much to occur haven’t left time for my mind to catch up. Our bodies are simply too fast.
“Thank you?” Rook questions, his chest still heaving with rage, and confusion finding footing for him too.
“Yes,” Lucian agrees simply. “For doing some of my work for me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kane asks, on his feet now and completely untrusting of Lucian’s intentions. I don’t blame him. Since the moment Lucian Wrath showed up at our cabin in Connecticut, nothing he’s done has gone according to plan.
“Yeah, Lucian. What the fuck?” Nathanial chokes out, still clutching his chest in pain. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this tome? Kill them already!”
Lucian’s calm is rooted in ruthlessness as he stalks his own brother. “What’s going on, Nathanial, is a man playing the long game of revenge.”
Nathanial groans, and Lucian’s smile grows.
“You see, nearly thirty years ago, I came to my first Selection and fell uproariously in love with a woman of unmatched beauty and kindness. I didn’t agree with the methods of the Council or the tradition of the auction, but for lack of options, thanks to Father, I decided that I would allow myself the pleasure of the woman of my dreams. Bought, of course, because that’s how these things work, but I didn’t mind the idea of putting in the work anyway. Of delaying the bonding and courting her instead. I wanted to show her care. Love. The life of luxury we’reso goodat promising.”
“Lucian,”Nathanial begs, dropping to the floor now, the pain is so intense.
“But I lost that bid, didn’t I, brother?” Lucian questions before kicking Nathanial in the chin, sending him rolling as spit flies to the floor in front of him.
Ronan screams in protest or pain, I can’t tell which, but with one flick of his hand, Lucian sends him to his own bout of spine-rending agony.
“I lost that bid toyou, Nathanial,” Lucian continues. “You took the woman I loved out from under my nose, and you ruined her. You abused. You tortured. You depleted. And when that wasn’t enough, you shared herwith our brothers.”
“Fuck you,” Nathanial grits out. “That whore got what she deserved.”
With a sickening crunch, Lucian kicks him again, laying him flat out with a groan.
Squatting, Lucian hovers over his brother, the only sound the clicking whisper of a tsk. “Now, now. Don’t rush me along. I’ve been waiting thirty years for this.”
“Lucian,” Nathanial cries, none of the cockiness he’s carried for the past three days left in his voice. He’s faceup, weak, and in intense agony from his own brother’s specialty.
