Page 150 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

Then something pulled against my neck, and I opened my eyes to see Brockton holding the vadati stone in his hand.

It was blue, bright with light shining through its golden case. It was connected. Rhyan. Rhyan had been listening the whole time.

“Who’s on the other end?” Brockton asked. “Who?”

I kept my mouth shut.

“Is this the forsworn bastard?” he roared into the stone. “Is it? This you, Hart? Well, guess what? You better get your ass to Vrukshire. And do it quickly. Alone, without your weapons. Cause we’re going to fuck your girl. We’re going to do it until you get here.”

He dropped the stone, still attached to the chain around my neck. I watched it plunge back between my naked breasts, the light fading until it was clear. My heart sank.

Then Brockton’s hand was on my breast.

I cried out, my skin crawling with disgust as he squeezed. And just as quickly, he stopped, his body freezing up as the wolves all turned their heads. Something passed by the window, the torches on the balcony flaming out.

A dark shadow crashed through the window. The glass shattered, the sound piercing as hundreds of broken shards shot forth into the room.

Brett, who was closest to the window, fell to the ground first, screaming as he covered his head. Glass covered his back, but before he could get up, a soturion stomped their black leather boot on his neck.

Rhyan pulled back his hood, his eyes locking with mine, as he took in the scene. His expression feral, his body terrifyingly still as his anger pulsed through the room. His aura was a rage I’d never felt before. There was a sword gleaming in each of his hands. A third blade strapped to his back.

Burning cold from his aura swept across my skin. There was no mistaking his fury. And all at once, the fires stopped burning, the logs in the fireplace hissed as they iced over, and the wolves began to shake as the room darkened.

“Take your fucking hand off her,” Rhyan snarled, “or I’ll cut it off myself.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Bind him,” Brockton ordered, reaching for my blade. But Rhyan was faster. He hauled Brett up from the ground by the hair, still managing to hold both blades—one behind Brett’s head, the other at his neck. Pieces of glass were stuck to Brett’s cheek and hands.

Geoffrey and Trey were moving forward, rushing to attack to Rhyan, to come to Brett’s defense.

Rhyan only watched Brockton, who still had his hand on me. “You’ll die for this.” There was something savage in Rhyan’s voice, something almost inhuman. His lilt was heavy and his face red. He stared with utter hatred at Brett, pushing the sword against his neck. His head turned slowly, his green eyes stopping on every wolf in the room, assessing, threatening, before they landed back on the wolf he’d trapped.

There was no warning. Rhyan’s sword struck like lightning as it slashed across Brett’s throat. Blood gushed down his tunic as he fell to the floor.

“Fuck!” Brockton shouted. He was so stunned, he finally let go of me, and I leaned back, trying to put distance between us, to conceal my nudity from the others.

Rhyan responded by kicking Brett’s lifeless body, and watching as his corpse rolled grotesquely over the broken glass. He stilled, dead.

Geoffrey and Trey stared at each other, silently trying to communicate and plan. Rhyan lifted both arms, both swords, the points aimed perfectly at their necks. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. One I’d never seen before.

“My oath, my soul,” Rhyan said, his voice so full of vengeance, and power.

“Shut up.” Brockton jerked his chin at the two remaining wolves.

“It’s the motto of Ka Hart,” Rhyan said, in the same violent tone. “Thought you should know. So when I tell you now, that I swear to all the Gods that every pathetic excuse for a man in this room who dared lay a hand on Lyriana, who touched her, who threatened her, who fucking looked at her, will die, I want you to know that my oath will be fulfilled. And that you have, at best, five minutes left in this world.”

“Slice his throat,” Brockton ordered. “Now!”

I balked as Geoffrey surged forward, sword and dagger raised, but he only made it two steps before Rhyan cut through his weapons with ease, his blade pushing right through Geoffrey’s throat.

The wolf gurgled, creating this horrid, wet choking sound. Blood spilled from the sides of his mouth like drool before Rhyan kicked him in the stomach, pushing him off his sword. And then he fell with lifeless eyes, his body crumpling on top of Brett’s.

Trey didn’t hesitate. Rhyan spun, his swords swinging in a circle around him. He lunged, but Rhyan struck, his blade finding the exact spot it needed to under his armor. His sword pierced through Trey’s back, before he retracted, and left Trey for dead, bleeding out on the floor.

Brockton bared his teeth, holding my dagger to my neck.

“Stand back,” Brockton said. “One step,” he warned, “one step, and she’s next.”