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GWYN

I’ve dreamtof this moment for so long, I’m not sure I remember a time before. I once longed for the day I would kill each and every vampire who had hurt my family. When my father had explained to me what I was—what I’d been made for—I’d thrown myself into training, ready to launch an attack at the tender age of twelve. It had been my father’s hesitance that stopped me and his death that had spurred me on.

Finally having the coven at my mercy should be a victory. And yet, it rings hollow. The coven has hunted me for decades, leaving slaughter and carnage in their wake, and I finally have them to heel.

But at what cost?

Roman Sauveterre appears small as I look down at him, his head bowed low in furious submission or bitter prayer. He’d once compared me to Aphrodite, but I wonder if he kneels at my feet and thinks of Eris instead. With the blood of a golden apple, I’d started something I’m unable to stop, and with vengeful intent, I’d burned his Troy to the ground. The marble floors in Bjorn's ballroom are shiny enough that I can almost see his reflection. A severe line for his mouth, a dark slash of brows. When he finally looks up at me, something twists in mygut. Hunched shoulders outline his defeat, and his bared fangs belong to a feral creature backed into a corner. Instinctively, I brace myself as if he’s a stray dog, made of nothing but sharp teeth and a commanding bark. If I reach out a hand, will he tremble with rage and bite it off?

He doesn’t move in my direction, and I wonder if he’s given up. This Roman isn’t the cruel, faceless villain I’d long hoped to ruin. He’s not the evil puppet master who has wrought nothing but pain and torment my entire life.

He’s just broken.

And I’m the one who did it.

I’m the one who gained his trust and made him care for me all while plotting to destroy everything he held dear. I’m the one who earned his love—between midnight confessions and raw gasps of pleasure, I had been given the gift of his affection and tenderness.

And it had ruined everything.

“You manipulative fucking cu?—”

“Watch how the fuck you speak to me, Sauveterre,” I say, snapped out of my spiraling thoughts by his hateful words. They’re an echo of what he said to me only a few hours ago.

No matter how beautiful the fractured parts might be, I’m not about to risk everything for someone so broken.

Though his fury isn’t undeserved, I can’t allow anyone else to see me as weak. I don’t care if they think I’m a duplicitous whore who seduced my way into Roman’s heart—it’s the truth, isn’t it? But I cannot allow the vampires now powerless in my thrall to watch me accept his brazen disrespect without question.

I’d laughed when I rebuked him, though none of this is funny. Except maybe the part where I wish I hadn’t betrayed him. I push that worthless thought away. This was exactly what I wanted all along, and I should just be grateful I survived it.

“Even without an oath, you’re going to do every single thing I tell you to do, and you’re going to do it without hesitation. Do you understand me?”

My phone rings, and I know it’s Sasha with my leverage. Despite my intention of blackmail, a far too large piece of me is relieved for the man sitting before me. I move my thumb over the green circle, wishing this moment could happen under any other circumstance. Pressing the button to answer the call, I brace myself.

Roman snarls up at me. “I’d rather kill every person in this room?—”

“Ro?”

Remy’s voice isn’t loud, but it’s clear. And it hits Roman like an arrow. With wide eyes and an open mouth, he stares up at me in disbelief. Every emotion plays out over his face as he hears his brother’s voice for the first time in months. The man who’d disappeared and haunted Roman’s every waking moment spoke, and everything slammed to a halt.

He’s real, I want to tell Roman.He’s not dead. You’re not dreaming. None of it was your fault.But I don’t. I bite my lip to stop myself instead. What Roman didn’t eviscerate between us in the cemetery, I set on fire with my betrayal. We’ll never talk like that again.

“For you,” I say, surprised that my voice sounds as steady as it does.

Shock and confusion furrow his thick brows. Relief kicks up the side of his lips in a half smile. I notice dust in his beard, and the faint reek of mildew wafts from him, but it doesn’t stop him from breathing his brother’s name. After almost dropping the phone, he runs his fingers through his hair, the brown strands hanging perfectly disheveled. His hands are shaking and his body has gone loose and unstable.

He is resplendent in his reprieve from grief.

But how can I, of all people, take pleasure in it?

Because I’m the one who made him think Remy was dead. Because Sasha and I held his brother hostage—prying him for intel. Because Hale helped store Remy’s blood, relying on magic to keep it fresh—waiting to use it. Because I forced Roman’s hand and motivated him into action by delivering Remy’s blood to the compound.

I’d made him believe his little brother was dead. It had been my idea from the start.

I faked his brother’s death to spur my plan into motion. I’d learned what made Roman Sauveterre tick by picking Remy’s mind apart. I’d manipulated and endangered my friend Clarke into a stupid matchmaking photo shoot, allowing Roman to think it was his doing. I did precisely what I needed to do, so how dare I find any happiness in this moment?

Like a spider waiting for its prey, I had silently strung my web and watched as Roman stepped right into my grasp—just like I knew he would.