Page 87 of Breaking Isolde

I shake my head. “Go home, Abelard. You’re drunk on power and it’s not a good look.”

Ms. Valence leans in, peering at me through her cat-eye glasses. “You’re not thinking clearly, Mr. Grey. Your father understood order. He knew his place.”

“He drank himself to death, probably listening to your bullshit,” I say.

Something shifts. For the first time, Abelard’s eyes flash—just a hint, but it’s there. He’s angry. He didn’t come here for a negotiation; he came here for a kill.

He nods at the Kings. “Bring the girl.”

That’s it, then.

I reach for the knife at my belt, slow so they see it coming. The bigger King puts a hand on his own weapon, but I just hold the blade, not threatening, just showing. “Try it,” I say.

He doesn’t. He holds his ground, waiting. It’s a smart move, really. Abelard may be at the head of the Board for now, but that space belongs to me.

Abelard is losing patience. “Rhett, you’re not special. You’re a tool. An animal. Don’t think for a second we won’t replace you.”

“Who’s left?” I ask. “Caius is gone. Colton’s an idiot. Bam is barely human. Julian is just a pretty boy. My family built this Academy.” I grin, feral. “And you know it. My grandfather would be very displeased with your shenanigans.”

Silence.

Then Ms. Valence speaks, but not to me. “If you care for her, Mr. Grey, you will surrender her now. The Board’s offer is not up for negotiation.”

I stare straight through her. “She’s mine. And I don’t share.”

Abelard shifts gears, voice softening. “Think, Rhett. You’re bright, but you’re not invincible. We’re only here because the Board respects tradition. If you force our hand, there are other options.”

I flick the knife in my hand, make the edge catch the light. “I’d love to see them.”

We’re at an impasse. The tension is so thick I could bite it in half.

Finally, Abelard steps back. “You have until midnight tomorrow,” he says, eyes flickering into Isolde’s living space. “After that, we come back. And we bring the rest of the Kings.”

Valence gives me one last long look, then turns, walking away without another word. Abelard follows. The two Kings bring up the rear, but not before the big one leans in, close, and whispers, “Don’t sleep tonight, boy.”

I watch them go, listen to the echo of their boots on the tiles. Only when they’re out of earshot do I shut the door, slow and deliberate.

Isolde is where I left her, hands clenched so tight the knuckles are white. Her eyes are wild, but not scared.

She says nothing. She doesn’t need to.

I cross the room and pull her to me, crushing her against my chest. I let the knife drop, and the sound of it clattering on the hardwood is the only thing that reminds me I’m still here, still breathing, still capable of rage.

She leans in, her breath hot on my neck. “They’re going to come back,” she whispers.

I nod, once.

She looks up at me, studying my face like it’s the only thing she has left. “What are you going to do?”

I think about it, really think. I see all the angles, all the ways this could end. None of them good. But I don’t care. Not anymore.

I look her in the eye. “Whatever it takes.”

She smiles, bloody and fierce, and I realize that for the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I belong.

War is coming.

I hope the Kings bring friends.