Page 18 of Henrikk’s Masquerade

Asher could not stay away from him.

My little moth. So sad that I should be the only light in his life.

Not for the first time, he regretted the anguish Asher’s broken family had caused him.

And the salt I’ve rubbed in his wounds.

Henrikk shook his head. He had to concentrate.

He turned left at the intersection, and he was momentarily startled to see a million versions of him staring back.

He frowned at the broken mirror. Asher had clearly been here.

But he could have sworn there hadn’t been a mirror here at all. This path was meant to continue…

I’d know. I designed the maze, after all.

Henrikk took a step closer to inspect the mirror and froze as his shoe crunched down on something. He peered down at a trail of broken glass and fine powder. The mirror had been dragged here.

Alarm exploded in Henrikk’s chest as he whirled around to look behind him, fangs bared, ready to bite Asher. Ready to fight. Ready to defend himself.

Because Henrikk needed to die…

The world desperately needed him to die…

But that didn’t mean he was ready.

And the drive to survive would force him to fight Asher tooth and nail.

Henrikk slashed—but there was no one behind him.

He panted, his vampire night vision penetrating the darkness.

Where are you, Asher?

He no longer had the courage to say the words aloud, to taunt the general. His body turned cold with fear as his eyes darted left and right, skin prickling with danger.

Suddenly, the world exploded as the shattered mirror at his back crashed over him.

He hit the ground hard, shutting his eyes against the bright mirror fragments that reflected torchlight and Asher’s glowing red eyes.

It was a trap.

Of course, it was a trap.

He’d underestimated the general, mistaking his endless patience for him for incompetence and weakness.

But Asher had always been the strong one.

The crunch of footsteps on glass behind him.

I have to move.

Henrikk ignored the bite of glass against his palm as he pushed himself to his feet. He sprang forward, but he was jerked to a halt as something hard and unforgiving was shoved over his head and jarred his neck.

He glimpsed the curve of a bow around his neck before he was dragged backwards, the polished grip pressing uncomfortably against his neck. He felt Asher’s warmth at his back as the man crushed him close.

“Do it,” Henrikk gasped through gritted teeth, trying not to let the fear sound in his voice. “Finish me.”