Page 22

DOMNO

" W hat are you doing here?" Esalyn hisses, her voice barely above a whisper so as not to wake Erisen.

The knife doesn't waver at my throat, her knuckles white around the handle.

Instead, she backs me down the hall until we are out of sight of the room that Erisen must be in—probably so he won't accidentally see this if he wakes.

She looks like a goddess of vengeance, standing there in the dim light. Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders now, wild and untamed. There's a smudge of ash across one cheekbone, and a small cut along her jaw that wasn't there before. My chest aches at the sight.

I could disarm her in seconds. We both know it. But I remain still, giving her this power over me. She's earned it.

"I came for you," I say simply.

"To finish the job?" Her eyes narrow, rage emanating from her in waves so potent I can almost taste it. "To collect your nodals?"

The bitterness in her voice cuts deeper than the blade at my throat. I deserve it. I deserve worse.

"No." I keep my voice steady, my gaze locked with hers. "To tell you the truth."

"I already heard the truth from Kareth before you killed him." She adjusts her grip on the knife, pressing just hard enough to draw blood. A warm trickle runs down my neck. "He told me everything."

"He told you what he knew," I correct quietly. "Let me tell you what he didn't."

There's so much distrust in her eyes, but I can see it—that slight waver. She wants to believe something different than what Kareth told her. She just doesn't feel like she can.

"Talk," she demands. "And if you lie to me again, I will cut your throat."

I believe her. The fierce woman who escaped a demon lord wouldn't hesitate to kill another demon who betrayed her. It's part of why I...why I can't stay away.

"The bounty came in through the usual channels," I begin, keeping my voice low. "Five hundred novas for one human woman. Just another job." I hold her gaze, unflinching. "I didn't know about Erisen. I didn't know why you were running."

Her jaw clenches. "Would it have mattered?"

"Yes." The certainty in my voice surprises even me. "But I didn't know that then either."

The votives flicker, casting shifting shadows across her face.

In the dim light, I can see the exhaustion etched into every line of her body, the way she's holding herself together through sheer force of will.

Yet she's still beautiful—not despite her rage and fear, but because of it. Because she refuses to break.

"I found you in four days," I continue. "I watched you in the market with Erisen. Saw how you counted your lummi three times before buying him a sweetbread. Noticed how you always kept your back to the wall, your eyes on the exits."

Her expression doesn't change, but something flickers in her eyes.

"I was going to walk away," I admit. "Leave you be. But then Erisen almost got trampled in the market, and I—" I swallow hard. "I couldn't just watch. And after that, I couldn't stay away."

"So instead you lied," she says, voice sharp as the blade she holds. "You pretended to be someone Erisen could trust. Someone I could—" She cuts herself off.

"I didn't mean to stay," I tell her, the truth raw in my throat. "It was supposed to be just once. Check that you were safe. But then once became twice. Twice became every day." I exhale slowly. "I didn't know how to walk away once something good found me again."

The confession hangs between us, naked and vulnerable. I've never spoken so honestly to another living soul, not since Zevan died.

"I let you into my home," she says, voice trembling with rage. "I let you near my son. I trusted you with the only thing that matters to me."

"I know." The weight of her words crushes me. "I should have told you sooner."

"You should never have come at all." The knife presses harder.

"But I would have never found you," I whisper, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "And for the first time since my brother died, I remembered what it felt like to be alive."

Esalyn's knife doesn't waver, despite the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. They glitter in the dim light but don't fall—she's too strong for that. Too practiced at holding herself together when everything threatens to shatter.

"Do you know what he did to me?" she asks, her voice so quiet I have to strain to hear it. "Vorrak?"

I don't move. Don't dare to breathe.

"He kept me in a room with golden chains.

Said they suited my skin." Her free hand unconsciously moves to her ankle where I've noticed the faint circular scars before—marks I never asked about.

"When I was carrying Erisen, he would tell me what he planned to do with our child.

How he would make him stronger than any half-blood had a right to be. "

The hatred in her eyes burns bright enough to scorch the air between us. I've seen that look before—in my own reflection.

"I don't want your pity," she spits, misreading my expression. "I want you to understand why I can't ever go back. Why I will kill anyone who tries to take us there."

"I understand," I say, and I do. The weight of her words settles on my shoulders, familiar and heavy. "But I won't take you back, Esalyn. I know what it's like to try to outrun your past. I know what it's like to never know a moment of peace."

The temple air grows thick with our shared history, with the weight of survival hanging between us. Outside, the wind howls against the abandoned stone walls, a lonely sound that matches the emptiness I've carried for so long.

"So you became the hunter instead," she says, understanding dawning in her eyes.

I nod once. "Until I found you." She's starting to look so uncertain, so I add, "That's why I couldn't stop myself when it came to both of you.

You…gave me that. The peace and a reason to live that I didn't have before.

I wouldn't give you up, not for the money or a bounty. Not for the right or wrong reasons."

She shakes her head. "You know, Erisen has never gotten close to anyone. But he asks about you," she admits, the words clearly costing her. "Wanted to know where his Domno went."

The possessive— his Domno—slices through me like a blade far sharper than the one at my throat.

"I told him we had to leave," she continues, voice hardening again. "That it wasn't safe anymore."

"It isn't," I agree. "Not now that others know. Kareth was just the first. There will be more."

Her jaw tightens, the tendons in her neck standing out. "I've been running from Vorrak for six years. I know how to disappear."

"Not from hunters like us." The truth is cruel, but necessary. "Not anymore."

The knife presses harder, drawing another trickle of blood. Her eyes flash with renewed anger. "So what then? You tracked us here to warn us that we can't run from you? That's not making your case any better, demon."

There it is—that fierce protectiveness that first drew me to her. The way she stands like a warrior twice her size, defending what's hers with every piece of herself.

"I tracked you to protect you," I say simply.

She laughs, a sharp, brittle sound. "Protect me? By finding me for Vorrak?"

"By standing between you and anyone who comes for you," I correct, my voice dropping lower. "It's what I've been doing since I first saw you."

Something dangerous flickers in her eyes—not trust, but possibility. It's a look I recognize from cornered prey that suddenly realizes it has options beyond fleeing.

"Why would you do that?" she asks, suspicion lacing every word. "What's in it for you?"

I could lie. Could claim honor or duty or some noble purpose. But I've lied enough.

"Because when I'm with you and Erisen, I remember who I was before the darkness took everything," I admit, the truth raw and exposed. "And I want to be that man again."