Page 62

He heads for the dense forest, clearly hoping to lose me among the trees. A mistake. The forest is my domain, has been since childhood. I follow not just his tracks but his scent, his fear a tangible marker in the air.
I catch glimpses of him between trees, his crimson cape snapping behind him. The trizon snarls as it runs, sensing its master's desperation.
When I'm close enough, I launch myself from the zarryn's back, tackling him from his mount. We crash through underbrush, rolling down a small embankment until we hit the rocky shore of a stream.
He fights like a cornered animal, all technique abandoned for desperate brutality. His horns catch me again, gouging deep into my thigh. I barely feel it, lost in the singular purpose of destroying the demon who threatened my family. My hands close around his throat, mirroring what he did to Trinity. His silver eyes bulge as I squeeze.
"You don't understand," he gasps, clawing at my arms. "The half-breeds—dangerous?—"
I lean closer, watching terror bloom in his eyes. "Those 'half-breeds' are my daughters."
His struggles intensify. He manages to free one hand enough to reach a second hidden blade, this one strapped to his forearm. The metal pierces my side, sliding between ribs with practiced precision.
Pain explodes through me, but instead of weakening my grip, it only sharpens my focus. I slam his head against the rocky ground once, twice, until blood darkens the water around us.
"For touching her," I growl, bringing my fist down on his face. Bones crunch beneath my knuckles. "For threatening my children." Another blow, harder. His struggles weaken. "For entering my home."
The captain's silver eyes dim as I wrap my hands around his throat again, squeezing with every ounce of strength I possess. His legs kick feebly beneath me, hands fluttering uselessly at my wrists.
"No one," I tell him, watching the light fade from his eyes, "touches what's mine."
The moment his body goes limp, I know it's not enough. With methodical precision, I draw the knife he used from my side. His eyes flutter open one last time, realization dawning a moment before I drive the blade through his throat, severing his spine.
The sound of steel grinding against bone is the last thing he hears.
I remain kneeling in the bloodied water, chest heaving, watching to make sure he doesn't move again. Only when I'm certain he's dead do I rise, gathering his body. Evidence cannot remain—not of a captain's death.
His blood mingles with mine as I haul him deeper into the forest, to a place where scavengers will ensure nothing recognizable remains. Only when the body is hidden do I allow myself to acknowledge my wounds, the torn flesh and flowing blood.
None of it matters. Only one thought drives me now: getting back to Trinity and our daughters.
The threat has ended. The captain will never touch my family again.
I've never been more satisfied to have failed at a bounty before.
The ride back is a blur. All I can think about is my family. I stumble through the door of my home, a strange heaviness settling in my bones that has nothing to do with blood loss.
The captain's body is hidden deep in the forest, but his attempt to take what's mine remains fresh in my mind. My wounds scream with every movement—the gouge in my thigh,the puncture between my ribs, the cuts and bruises of combat—yet they're distant, secondary concerns.
The house is quiet now. Too quiet after the chaos I left behind.
"Trinity?" My voice emerges as a rasp, echoing through the hallway.
No answer comes, and for a moment, panic claws at my throat. What if there were others? What if while I was dealing with the captain, someone else?—
Then I hear it. A soft humming from the nursery, a melody I've heard Trinity sing to the twins when she thinks no one is listening. My feet carry me there before I can think, every step leaving crimson prints on the floor.
I pause at the doorway, struck immobile by the sight before me.
Trinity sits in the rocking chair, both twins cradled against her chest. Her throat bears angry purple bruises in the shape of fingertips. A cut above her eyebrow has bled down the side of her face. She looks exhausted, battle-worn—and yet somehow more beautiful than I've ever seen her.
The twins are fussing, tiny faces red and scrunched from crying, little fists waving in distress. Trinity whispers to them, her voice hoarse from being choked but gentle as she tries to soothe them.
"It's okay now. We're safe. Your father made sure of it."
Something in my chest cracks open at her words. A strange pressure builds behind my eyes, and I realize with shock that I'm fighting back tears. Me. A demon bounty hunter who's killed more beings than I can count, suddenly undone by the sight of this human woman calling me "dad" to our children.
Trinity looks up, sensing my presence. Relief floods her face, followed immediately by concern as she takes in my bloodied state.