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VIOLET

Dorian slides hands into his pockets and watches Cornelius struggle to breathe.

“Devious bastard,” he coughs out.

“Is that comment aimed at me?” asks Dorian casually. “Because as devious as I am, I’m surprised to find you in here.”

“Not you,” he mutters.

Dorian’s presence calms my hybrid, but she won’t snap her focus away from Cornelius until the spell on the others breaks. Rowan sucks in a ragged breath, jerking as if someone just yanked him from a nightmare. His wide eyes lock on Cornelius and Dorian, horror and fear mingled in his expression.

Grayson has already attempted to stand and braces himself with one hand on the cave wall. His head lifts slowly. When his eyes land on Dorian, he slumps back down again, defeated.

He can’t escape my father.

Their spells broke, but how much have Grayson and Rowan fallen apart? And Leif? What changed in him?

My father doesn’t move. “Let’s hurry this up. I’m bored with games, but this turn of events was not executed by me. Who sold you out, Whitegrove?”

“Josef Petrescu.”

I gape at how easily Cornelius gave up the information without Dorian wrenching the truth from him. The so-called master manipulator lies broken by someone more powerful—not Dorian; Josef.

Cornelius wipes his mouth with a shaking hand. “I didn’t expect any of you to be here tonight.”

“Evidently. Never trust a Petrescu, my friend.”

“I have a lot of names.” The pathetic witch drags in a breath. “Others involved in the necromancy and murders. Friends of Viktor’s. I’ll give you those. But you protect me.”

Dorian’s lips purse. “But if I act on these names that would eliminate Josef’s rivals.”

“Yes,” Cornelius says hoarsely. “And give you a chance to dismantle the witches’ network. One less problem.”

“Ah. Then we’d best remove you from society before these ‘names’ are aware you’re about to compromise them. If they’re powerful enough to rival Josef, you’d need to remain under my supervision on a permanent basis.”

Dorian sizes up the room, impassively noting the broken skeleton near his feet, and the second in the alcove.

“Although I feel you may face criminal charges and imprisonment. Execution for murder, perhaps?”

“These aren’t my victims!” Cornelius groans, the so-called upstanding, respectable witch turning his head to one side, coughing up blood. “I came for Viktor.”

“Viktor, the man who never existed? Yours is quite a complex case,” muses Dorian.

“But you must agree my custody is the safest place for you. I feel a trip to Scotland is in order.” He turns his head.

“Return to the academy, Violet. I will speak to you in the morning. You did not behave as promised.”

“ What ? Cornelius appeared. I haven’t touched anything.”

“I’d rather keep my initial chat with Cornelius private.”

My jaw slackens. “Dorian. We should all come with you. The evidence…”

Dorian flicks a look behind me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

Grayson.

I say nothing, as Dorian snatches Rowan’s rucksack from the ground.

“Is Sarah’s evidence in here?” he asks Rowan, then huffs when there’s no response. “Violet?”

“Yes,” I mumble.

He nods at Grayson and Rowan. “You take care of them , so I don’t have to.” He pauses long enough to communicate his true meaning, then he looks to Leif. “You’re bloody lucky.”

Leif says nothing as Dorian crouches to meet Cornelius eye to eye.

“Your head appears injured. I apologize that blood rune travel could intensify the headache.”

Dorian doesn’t wait. He lifts Cornelius’s injured arm and drags the shrieking man closer, then slices across both their fingertips with sharp teeth. Blood wells instantly, and Dorian deftly paints the runes with his and Cornelius’s blood.

The cave drops into silence, and Leif sinks down onto the rocks at the entrance and avoids my eyes.

Grayson remains rigid, still resting against the wall, staring toward the spot where Dorian vanished. Rowan braces his forearms against his thighs and lowers his head between his knees, breathing fast.

I kneel beside him. “Rowan?”

He lifts a hand in response but doesn’t speak. A moment later, he twists away from me and vomits before slumping forward again, coughing and wiping his mouth with the back of a trembling hand.

I wrap my arms around him without speaking, holding onto his shaking body in cautious relief. “You’re okay.”

“He isn’t,” says Grayson.

Rowan buries his head beneath his arms, head on his knees, and I push myself upright. As I step toward Grayson, he shuffles to one side when I reach out.

“And you?” I ask.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Rowan’s worse. Look after him. I’m alright now the spell left.” He swallows. “And Dorian too.”

Fine? No. None of them are.

“Welcome to the world of witches who screw with your head,” Leif mutters.

Grayson flicks a look at Leif. “But only half your head. I heard you. Cornelius didn’t touch your shifter mind. How did you manage to separate the two?”

Leif doesn’t answer at first, and his expression darkens. “Because I’ve accepted my shifter side is part of who I am.”

“But not a helpful time to lose your shit with this shifter side you ‘accepted,’ Leif. What if Dorian hadn’t arrived? If you’d killed Cornelius…” Grayson trails off, and I frown. It’s as if Grayson is speaking to himself not Leif.

“I didn’t shift,” Leif snaps. “I had control. I broke from the spell, and I waited.”

“What for?” I ask.

His amber eyes fix on mine. “Until you’d hurt Cornelius enough.”

I’ve seen Zeke and Ethan attack in their shifter forms, but also in their human. Primal instincts drive my shifter fathers, and, matched with their power, they can damage someone, shifted or not.

Leif’s nature never once compared to theirs. Not until today.

At Wesley’s memorial, Leif held me with strength that matched Ethan’s unshifted power, but in every encounter we’ve had with those who’d hurt us, Leif never once acted with ferocity.

“Don’t look at me like that, Violet. I don’t want to talk right now,” he says.

Grayson’s voice is low as he pulls me closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think things would go this far.”

His words punch air at my chest. This far? “You knew Cornelius would come?”

“No! Josef said… I had to… I thought…” He wraps arms around himself and looks at Rowan, then back to the floor. “I didn’t expect this. Him.”

Grayson told Josef.

“You promised to protect me. But why would you if I’m the one making choices that hurt everybody else?” he whispers.

“I can’t stay here,” says Leif from across the cavern.

Grayson’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Don’t say anything. Not yet.”

The conversation at the lodge replays in my mind, how tightly Grayson held my hands, and how I didn’t push. I should’ve.

Instead, I left him alone and went upstairs to check if Rowan had collected all the evidence. Grayson didn’t meet my eyes when we all returned downstairs.

Grayson contacted Josef in those moments alone. He told his uncle we planned to come here.

“I never want to think about this place again,” Leif continues.

I glance around the chamber at the broken skeletons. Cornelius’s blood. At the place that will always be one of violence and horror, even with the Whitegrove magic gone.

And I look to Rowan, Grayson, and Leif. I held back because I needed to. Because letting go of myself meant risking their lives too.

But something altered inside them.

I’m not a witch or a vampire. I’m a hybrid. I’ve spent too long suppressing what I am, deluding myself that’s the way to keep the people I love safe. But suppressing her today meant Cornelius walked away intact, leaving others broken.

Maybe this time I had to hold back in order to protect and bring justice, but that stops now because that no longer matters. The next time someone hurts one of the three other people in this room, I won’t choose control.

I won’t weigh what’s right.

I’ll end anybody who harms them.

Whoever they are. Whatever the consequences.