His voice cracks, desperation souring the air. The rank, acrid stench of his fear slides under my tongue until all I can taste is pennies and bile. His eyes flicker as his form ripples again, but Marcus’s grip doesn’t loosen, not even a fraction.
I glance at Marcus over Silas’s head, searching his face for something. Agreement, resistance, anything. My pulse hammers in my throat, every beat screamingdecide, decide, decide. He just shrugs, tilts his head—your call.
The weight of it slams into me. My call. My choice. The air feels thicker for it. Toxic, even. My insides twist with indecision. We need answers.Ineed answers. I need revenge, like I need air in my lungs and blood in my veins. It’s the only thing keeping me upright when everything else has been stripped away. I nod.
Marcus signals the others over. “Change of plans. We’re going in. This fucker’s no use.”
“But—” Minerva starts.
I catch her hands in mine. “This was always the contingency plan. We’ve got this. But if you want to sit it out, no shame. This isn’t your fight.”
“The fuck it isn’t. You’re my family, which means they were my family. I won’t rest until the bastards who did this to you are bled dry and buried.”
“Bloodthirsty thing, aren’t you?” Leonard smirks. “Turns me on a little.”
Minerva smacks his shoulder. “Over my dead body.”
Leonard wrinkles his nose. “Not really into necrophilia, but thanks for the offer.”
Minerva rolls her eyes, but a ghost of a smile tugs at her lips. If I didn’t know better, I might think there was chemistry between them. But no—their bond is tied up in this mutual, almost obsessive, desire for justice. It runs sibling-deep, if you will, laced with barbed humor and inappropriate jokes that only they seem to find funny. Besides, Minerva’s tastes run closer to her own body type than Leonard’s.
Marcus straightens, shoulders rolling back like he’s shaking off hesitation and stepping fully into command. “All right. Who’s in, who’s out?”
A chorus of “in” answers him, voices sharp in the night, threading together into something that feels heavier than just words. My chest tightens, a spark of heat flaring in my blood.
Marcus’s grin cuts across the shadows, feral and hungry. “Then let’s do this.”
It’s a declaration and a promise. My pulse spikes, wolf pacing inside me, ready to tear into whatever waits ahead.
Belvedere thrusts his ringed hand in the middle. “Let’s get physical.”
Marcus groans. “I’m not saying that.”
“What? Why not? It’s motivating.”
“Still.”
“Fine.” Belvedere huffs, then brightens. “At least give me team spirit.”
Marcus rolls his eyes but sets his hand on Belvedere’s. The rest of us follow, one by one. Belvedere grins like a cat with the cream.
“No dying in drab black, bitches. We’ll accessorize with victory. To victory!”
Marcus shoots me a look, the kind that says this is ridiculous and we’re doing it anyway all at once. He shrugs, lips curling faintly, and mutters, “To victory.”
The rest of us echo him, voices low and almost embarrassed, whispers scraped raw, as if saying the words might trick the universe into believing them. Might make us believe them. The syllables taste hollow and desperate on my tongue, but I cling to them anyway, because right now belief feels as necessary as breath.
The changeling groans. “Shoulda taken my chances in there. I’ll die from all this cheese before the enemy even touches me.”
We tie him up, and Belvedere gives a bored flick of his fingers, layering illusion over reality. The changeling’s form shimmers, blurs, then vanishes into the night. In his place, nothing more than a scraggly bush sits against the fence line—so ordinary it dares you not to notice it at all.
We slip down the path toward the warehouse. By my count, five guards patrol the doors, two perched on the roof. “Serafina,” I whisper, “those two are yours.”
Her lips twitch in a humorless smile. “Not a problem.” She draws, aims, and releases. Each arrowhead embeds in throats and joints, ending lives before they even knew they were under attack.
Two silent deaths before I even register the arrows flying. The vessel is calm. Terrifyingly calm.
I scan the shadows frantically. Nothing is there, but it feels like every enemy eye is watching us. The silence presses in heavily, unnaturally. We glide along the perimeter like wraiths, my wolf prowling beneath my skin, clawing at me to be unleashed.
