Page 107 of Entombed By Blood

I know he’s unharmed, at least. The thrall bond between us is as unmoved as usual. A chilling rope of unfeeling ice that helps me keep my own cool as I stare at my sister.

The more I look, the more I’m convinced that itisher. It’s just a version of Immy I’ve never seen before. Either she somehow emerged from her coffin more confident than before—which is unlikely—or...

She was never in one.

“We never found the person who betrayed us,” I whisper, my eyes widening. “What if...”

Frost stops so suddenly that I crash into him. It takes a microsecond for me to untangle my limbs and realise why he’s frozen, but when I catch sight of the silver at his neck, my heart stops.

“Don’t move,” Draven says.

I’m still in shock from my realisation about Immy, so perhaps that’s why I don’t immediately make the connection. It takes a second for me to realise his voice isn’t coming from the tiny earpiece as it should be.

Instead, he’s holding a blade at Frost’s throat.

By now, I should really be used to being betrayed by my thralls.

Time seems to slow. Panic sharpens my thoughts, and my mind races as it switches into survival mode.

My eyes snap to the thrones, where Callie is grinning like a lioness who’s caught her prey. The pack admitted Draven was her prisoner. That was how she broke him and sent him against them. Only he confessed straight away—apparently still loyal to Frost, despite all the torture he endured. But what if eventhatwas a ploy? It’s not unheard of for my sire to send agents to work for his enemies for centuries. Letting them weasel their way into positions of trust and going dark until he calls on them.

If Draven is working for Cain, he knows everything. My thralls are probably being surrounded as we speak. If we’re lucky, the lycans will get away. That leaves Frost and me trapped here. The only way to save him—and myself—is to reclaim my place as my sire’s favourite. The only way to dothatis to deliver Frost and pretend that was my intention all along.

Because Cain won’t kill Frost. It’s not his way.

“Hands off my prize,” I growl, snatching Draven’s wrist and twisting his arm until he drops it, the silver landing in my other hand.

When I raise it to Frost’s throat myself, my traitorous thrall raises a brow and drops into a low bow.

“Eve, what the fuc—” Draven jabs a fist into Frost’s stomach, cutting off his sentence and forcing him to collapse into a fit of coughing.

As soon as he’s down, Draven strips him of his weapons, chucking the blades and guns across the floor until he’s defenceless. When he’s finished, he pulls a set of silver handcuffs from his pocket, ignoring the way his fingers burn as he offers them to me silently.

All around us, the crowd has gone silent once more, and I sense their anticipation as I grab one of Frost’s arms and then the other, forcing them behind his back. Frost doesn’t fight—that would make it easier. Instead, he just stares at us both like he doesn’t understand what’s happening. The naked pain in his eyes almost guts me.

But I can’t let myself break down. Not now, when our survival depends on me keeping my composure.

“Move,” I order, clicking the cuffs closed and shoving him forward.

The crowd parts around us, opening up a path to the throne as soon as they realise what’s going on.

As soon as we reach the steps before the throne, I kick Frosthardin the back of his knees. He goes down in front of my sire, kneeling at Cain’s feet. I take a breath and look up, meeting my sire’s splintered grey eyes evenly. A poker face won’t be enough this time, not with Immy at his side, reading my emotions.

So I force myself to remember every time I’ve ever felt victorious. Every battle I won in his name before my imprisonment. Every second of pride and satisfaction. I summon it to the surface until I drown out the fear, hold my head high and smirk.

“Sire, I’ve brought you a gift.”

Cain takes his time, standing from his throne and striding down the three steps which separate us. He ignores Frost completely, stepping around him and reaching out to caress my jaw.

“Well done, my daughter,” he praises, pressing a kiss to my cheekbone. “I knew you would never make the same mistake a second time.” He turns back to the room and sweeps out his hand in a dramatic gesture. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present my final and most beloved daughter: Evelyn.”

* * *