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Chapter Twenty-Five

LUCIEN

I wanted to kill the bastard. Rip out his fucking spine and spit on his corpse.

That was the only clear thought in my head as I paced the hallway outside Thorne’s bedroom. Anger simmered deep in my stomach and my fists ached from how tightly I clenched them. I wanted to track Trystan down and slaughter him before he ever laid a finger on Isadora.

But I couldn’t leave her right now.

And not because she needed comfort or was emotionally fragile, but because if I left her alone right now, she’d go after him herself. And I refused to let that happen.

I’d seen her expression the moment Thorne went down. She hadn’t been sad or frightened, like a normal person would be. She’d been pissed . The scent of rage had surrounded her until my nostrils had burned from it.

And while I didn’t mind the end result—Trystan dead—I didn’t want her anywhere near the asshole.

Not after what he’d done to Thorne. Werewolves weren’t easy prey.

The Wolfes even less so. Violence burned in their blood—especially her brothers.

Thorne was more subtle. She schemed and plotted and outmaneuvered.

But still, Trystan had broken her.

Because you couldn’t outthink— predict —a lunatic.

And that made him exceptionally dangerous.

My mind shifted into execution mode. First, get Isadora out of here. Back to my place where Rue and a contingent of guards awaited. Isadora wouldn’t like it. She’d fight me. But I didn’t care. I would not lose her to some deranged bastard with a superiority complex.

Isadora was mine now. Trystan had had his shot. And he’d failed. Spectacularly. He didn’t get to hurt the people she loved because he’d fucked up.

Next, I needed the Ravenspells.

Trystan had used magic to hijack Thorne’s body. Possession like that wasn’t cheap—and it left a magical trail. The Ravenspells were like bloodhounds when it came to magic. Hopefully, they’d be able to sniff him out and give me a location.

And then? I’d gut him. As simple as that.

The door creaked open, and I pivoted on my heel just as Isadora stepped out of the room.

She walked toward me, quiet and composed, but deep down I sensed her distress and saw the weight she carried on her shoulders. I could only imagine the thoughts running through her head—blaming herself for everything that’d happened.

She came to a stop in front of me and looked up. A smear of dried blood streaked across her cheek like a damn brand. Not hers. Thorne’s. I immediately reached up and tried to rub it off. But it clung to her skin, just to insult her further.

I took Isadora into my arms and kissed the top of her head. “How is she?”

“Alive,” she replied, her voice low. “Resting now. Her brothers are sitting with her.”

I nodded. The brothers could keep watching the fucking door. I’d handle the bigger threat.

“Good,” I said, offering her another gentle kiss. “Then let’s go. We’re leaving.”

Isadora briefly stiffened before she pulled back, her eyebrows lifted. “I beg your pardon?”

“There’s nothing else you can do here,” I said calmly. “We need to get you somewhere safe. I called in reinforcements. Rue is already at my place, waiting for us.”

Her expression flattened, and she took a step back, placing distance between us. “No.”

I stole that step back. So, she took another.

I didn’t like her retreating from me. “This isn’t up for debate, Isadora. You saw what he did to her. You think I’m going to let you stay here? Where he could come looking for you? Where I can’t control?—”

“You can’t control everything,” she snapped, her words sharper than any blade. “And I’m not going to hide out at your place. That’s not happening.”

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “You are.”

She gave a bitter laugh and planted her fists on her hips. “Why? So, you can hunt him down? Play executioner while I sit on the sidelines twiddling my fingers like some simpering damsel. Yeah, no thank you.”

“At least you’ll be safe!” I said, my voice rising.

I took a breath to settle myself. Shouting in the Wolfes’ hallways wouldn’t make my point.

I knew better than to get emotional. But that was hard when Isadora was being so stubborn.

“Listen, you matter to me. I refuse to scrape your body off the floor like we almost had to do with Thorne. I’m not going to lose you just because you want to prove how tough you are. ”

Her chin lifted. “You do not get to sideline me, Lucien. Not with this. This is my fight. I refuse to let him think he broke me. And I refuse to let you shove me into some tower while you’re riding off playing the hero. I’m not yours to control.”

A slow burn built under my skin. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder, stuff her into my car, and drive her back to my place. She was driving me fucking mad—because she was right.

“You are mine,” I spoke softly.

She froze.

“I don’t mean like a possession,” I added. “I mean in every way that matters. You are the only fucking thing that matters to me. And I won’t let him ruin that.”

Isadora’s lips parted, and I had a feeling she had a response fully prepared. Likely, an unpleasant one. But then the energy between us shifted. She relaxed her jaw and let loose a slow breath.

“Lucien,” she said, softer now, but no less fierce. “You don’t get to make these decisions for me. If we’re going to be together, you have to understand that. I know you fight to control everything in your life, but that won’t work for us.”

I stared at her. This woman. This beautiful, infuriating vampiress who’d marched unannounced into my life and fucked it up six ways from Sunday. I wanted to cover her in bubble wrap and lock her away somewhere safe, but that would smother her fire and kill the woman I loved.

I couldn’t do that to her.

I took the last step forward, grateful when she didn’t back away this time.

“Fine,” I said, hating this concession. “But we do this together. My way. You don’t get to do anything foolish, clear?”

She flashed me a grin. “Crystal.”

I grunted, already regretting this compromise and cataloguing the many ways this could go wrong. But her smile kept me from retracting the offer. Barely. I had to do this if we were to have any future. That much I understood.

Before I could drag her toward the exit, Thorne’s door creaked open again.

Ricky stepped into the hall, his clothing wrinkled and his eyes wild. Blood stained nearly every inch of him, and his face was gaunt. There was no trace of humor in his eyes. Not like I’d seen in the past. His expression was one of cold fury.

“Just so we’re all clear,” he said, his voice far too calm considering all that’d happened. “I’m going with you.”

I tensed. Oh, hell no.

The last thing I needed right now was an emotionally unstable werewolf with a personal vendetta at my side. Especially this emotionally unstable werewolf. He was unpredictable on a good day and today was certainly not a good day.

I opened my mouth to shut him down, but then I glanced at Isadora.

Still pale. Still clearly shaken.

More people meant more eyes on her. More bodies between her and Trystan. And if Ricky wanted to rip Trystan limb from limb in retaliation for his baby sister, who was I to stand in his way?

I jerked a quick nod. “Follow my lead.”

Ricky gave me a feral smile. “Yeah, sure.”

I sighed. “I’m not joking.”

“Oh, I know,” he said. “That’s what makes it adorable.”

I growled but didn’t bother wasting any more time arguing about this.

“Ricky…” Isadora said. “Are you sure? What if Thorne?—”

“I’m going,” he said flatly. “I owe that rat bastard pain. And I need to do something before I explode and start breaking things.”

Isadora nodded. “What about Felix and Cassian?”

“Cass is watching Thorne, and Felix is watching Cass.”

She frowned. “What? Why?”

“Cass and Thorne are twins,” Ricky said. “They’ve always been the closest of the four of us. You saw him earlier, pacing the room like a caged animal. He’s not okay right now. If Thorne wakes up in pain…” He shook his head. “Felix will keep him from doing anything stupid.”

With everyone finally on the same page, I led us toward the front door. I opened it without fanfare, and the three of us stepped out into the night and hurried toward my car. Ricky slid into the backseat without being told.

I started the engine, letting the hum of the car ground me.

“First, we need to speak to the Ravenspells,” I said as I pulled out of the driveway and took to the streets.

Ricky jerked his head up. “What? Why?”

“Because Trystan used magic,” Isadora said on my behalf. “Which means he’s working with someone. And we need to know who that someone is and what they’re capable of. We can’t go into this blindly.”

I hadn’t even thought of that. But I did add, “They also might be able to track the spell to give us his location.”

Ricky nodded, his expression contemplative. “What if the Ravenspells are helping them?”

Then I would end the feud between my family and theirs. Tonight. Permanently.

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence. I pushed the vehicle faster, weaving through the near-empty streets with one hand tight on the wheel and the other curled in Isadora’s hand.

Eventually, the Ravenspell estate came into sight. Thick ivy strangled the gates, but they creaked open without fanfare as we approached—courtesy of whatever surveillance they used to vet guests.

I pulled into the long drive, cut the engine, and stepped out. Isadora and Ricky joined me, the latter cracking his knuckles with slow, ominous precision.

We were halfway to the front door when it swung open and revealed Selene.

She stood barefoot in the doorway, draped in a gauzy black robe, her messy silver hair swept into a topknot, the strands falling around her face.

She assessed us, her eyes briefly widening. “Now this is an unexpected sight. A St. Germain and a Wolfe standing on my doorstep.” She stared at me. “Either someone’s dying, or someone’s about to.”

Isadora flinched.

I stepped forward. “We need your help.”