Page 436

I wondered if there was anyone who could withstand his gaze.

Without much expectation, I tried to reach into his emotions, but as always, I encountered a wall I couldn't break through. The usual protective shield he seemed to have erected against all of us.

“I'm working on behalf of the town, and its policies mandate cooperation with Vanderwood University,” Camille replied professionally.

Nicolaj stood up.

This time, I tensed.

I had already witnessed Nicolaj kill other Ruisangors. It was part of his gift, but I only had a vague idea of how it worked.

In other words, there were plenty of reasons to fear him, to fear for Camille, because she was not part of the DeLoughrey bloodline.

“You work on my behalf, Camille,” Nicolaj began, stepping closer to my godmother. “Or have you already forgotten who picked you up off the street a century ago?”

Wait, what?

I looked at Camille in confusion. She was still facing the floor.

All I knew was that she had been turned in the 1920s, but I didn't know that Nicolaj had taken pity on her. Whatever that meant...

“One more misstep...” he began, stepping around her. “And I would hate to see one of my best agents suddenly disappear without a trace.”

Camille didn't reply.

And so Nicolaj walked to the door, straightened a painting on the wall, and finally turned to look at me.

“You should wear waistcoats, boy.” When his gaze met mine, a chill ran down my spine. “It is already quite unfortunate that your father lacks the proper sense for wearing shirts.”

With that, he left the room.

He had done it again, comparing me to that man.

The anger from earlier returned. But for once, it wasn't directed at Tristan, but at Nicolaj.

Our families were doomed to destroy each other for all eternity, just because a man filled with hatred couldn't bury his resentment. The Senseque had taken something precious from him. He mentioned that over and over again. But that had already been two centuries ago.

He was on a personal vendetta.

Didn't he see what damage he was causing? Didn't he see how he was tyrannizing everyone, even his own family?

My thoughts wandered to recent events. Emely's pretty, distraught face floated before my inner eye.

She was trapped. And she seemed stuck. She wouldn't get out of there unless someone reached out a hand to her.

But could I be the one to do that when our families seemed so close to loading their weapons and turning them on each other?

Would I be able to point the barrel of the weapon my family had placed in my hand against my own bloodline, just to help a girl whose hatred for me was deeply rooted in her genetics?

Who was I to believe there was a way for us to throw our families' principles overboard?

Just another rose in a war of thorns.

Chapter 57

Mady

two years earlier