Page 10 of Night Fae (Monsters of Veridia #3)

Foolish mutts. Everyone knew how touchy the Night Court got over the shadow paths.

Zev's ears caught a distant sound—voices approaching. The wolves were returning.

For one wild moment, Zev considered stepping into the open, warning them, scaring them away. But the mark burned again, reminding him that his betrayal would come at a cost.

No good options. Only terrible choices.

Zev replaced the journal exactly as he'd found it. He tucked himself into dense underbrush downwind from the clearing, concealed from sight.

There, he let his training take over.

Emotion by emotion, thought by thought, he constructed the void inside, a perfect hollow where pain couldn't reach. The assassin's mindset.

By the time the werewolves entered the clearing, Zev had become something else. Something cold and calculating. His body perfectly still, his breathing shallow and controlled.

The werewolves were talking as they came into sight.

"—changed again. The energy signature is stronger today."

"Could be the phase of the moon. We need more data."

They were two males. One tall and broad-shouldered, the other leaner with dark hair covering his arms even in human form. They carried packs and what appeared to be more measurement tools.

"The alpha won't like this," the taller one said, kneeling by the stone circle. "The path shouldn't be this close to the surface."

The leaner wolf removed instruments from his pack. "It's not just here. Kara's pack reported the same thing near the western border. Something's happening to all the paths."

Zev watched them work, cataloging weaknesses, planning his approach. Information flowed into his awareness—the taller one favored his left side, the leaner one remained more alert, scanning the treeline periodically. The void inside Zev expanded, consuming whatever hesitation might have remained.

The wolves continued their work, oblivious to his presence.

"The Court must know something they're not telling anyone," the taller one said, adjusting one of the stones.

"Would they tell werewolves if they did?" The leaner wolf snorted. "We're just animals to them."

The conversation continued, but Zev stopped listening to the words. Their voices became mere sound as he calculated trajectories, angles, the quickest path to complete his task.

The mark his grandmother had placed on him lusted for blood.

Zev drew his knife, and then he rose from his hiding place, silent as a shadow.

He struck without warning.

One moment he was hidden in the shadows, the next he was behind the taller wolf.

His blade found the soft spot between vertebrae, severing the spinal cord at the base of the skull.

The wolf had no time to cry out, no chance to shift forms or defend himself.

His body crumpled to the ground with a soft thud, eyes still open in mild surprise.

The second wolf froze, tools clattering from his hands. His nostrils flared, catching Zev's scent only after it was too late for his companion. Recognition dawned in his eyes. He knew what Zev was.

Zev's body moved without conscious thought—muscle memory taking over. His blade was already in motion before his mind caught up, punching through ribs to find the wolf's heart with lethal precision.

The wolf's eyes went wide, then vacant, as he collapsed beside his packmate.

Silence settled over the clearing.

The deed had been done, the mission carried out.

Zev kept his mind blank as he knelt beside his first target's body to search through his belongings. He found nothing of great interest, but he decided to take the journal he'd picked up earlier with him.

There was something going on with the shadow paths. The wolves had known what.

Zev wanted to know as well.

"I did as you asked." Zev stood before his grandmother's desk, the stolen journal tucked under his coat, the mark on his arm now a faint gray outline instead of midnight black.

Lady Morvena extended her hand, and Zev rolled up his sleeve to display the faded binding. She traced the mark with one sharp nail, satisfaction curving her lips.

"Good," she said. "You have served the Court today."

Had he?

He'd murdered scientists, that was all.

"The wolves were studying the shadow path," Zev said. "Not messing with it."

"Don't be naive." His father stepped forward from where he'd been lingering near the window. "Other races lie. You know this. They only sought to justify their trespassing."

Lady Morvena's eyes narrowed slightly. "What exactly did you observe?"

"The path was near the surface," Zev said. "More visible than it should be."

"Interesting." His grandmother tapped her fingers against the desk. "And unfortunate. It seems our work is far from done."

She opened a drawer and withdrew a small silver box. When she lifted the lid, a three-dimensional map shimmered into existence above it—the territories surrounding the Night Court displayed in perfect miniature. Pinpricks of light marked locations throughout the map.

"Your next target," she said, pointing to a glowing red dot near the silver lake. "Another pack has established a camp here. They're more numerous, more organized." Her violet eyes fixed on his with obvious pleasure. "You exceeded expectations today. I knew I was right about you."

What was she talking about? "I only did what you forced me to do."

"The mark I put on you would have been satisfied with one kill, yet you chose to eliminate both wolves, as any good assassin would have. Thoroughness is a virtue we taught you well."

A cold weight settled in Zev's stomach. One death. The spell had only needed one .

He hadn't realized that.

He might have, if he'd taken a moment to think, to consider letting the second wolf run free.

But he hadn't, because that wasn't how he operated. They all knew it.

His grandmother smiled. Zev wanted to reach for his knife and carve her eyes out of her face.

"I've killed for you," he said instead, hoping to end the conversation. "I want my reward."

"You should not have to be rewarded for serving your family."

"We had a deal," Zev reminded her.

He half-expected her magic to slam into him, but Lady Morvena did not attack. "Very well." She raised a hand vaguely. "If you must see your human." She seemed tired of him. "Go."

Zev turned and left the room.

Zev moved through the familiar corridors toward the blue chamber, barely taking in his surroundings. Now that the job was done, now that Lady Morvena had dismissed him, the events of the day were starting to catch up with him.

His thoughts lingered on his kills in ways they never had before. He remembered the soft resistance as blade met flesh. The slight surprise in the first wolf's eyes before light faded from them.

They'd tricked him into taking two lives when one would have sufficed.

But had he really been tricked, or had he simply acted on instinct?

Zev took a deep breath.

And then he tried to reconstruct the void inside of him. No matter what Malik said, this was how he would get through.

A guard stationed near the entrance to the guest wing snapped to attention as Zev approached. "Lord Zevran."

Recognition flashed in the guard's eyes—recognition and something else. Fear? Respect? Disgust? Zev couldn't tell. He tried not to let it bother him.

Nothing could be allowed to bother him.

"This way, my lord," the guard said, leading him down the final corridor.

Zev followed quietly.

"He's been fed," the guard reported, hesitating before adding, "Refused the food at first, but we... convinced him it was safe."

The slight pause told Zev everything he needed to know. A flare of anger burned through the numbness, hot and surprising in its intensity.

"Did you hurt him?" Zev demanded.

The guard stiffened. "Nothing permanent, my lord."

Nothing permanent.

Something snapped inside Zev.

"Nothing permanent," he repeated, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I killed today so he would remain unharmed. That was the agreement."

The guard shifted his weight, suddenly uneasy. Good. He should be. "We followed orders, my lord. The human needed to eat."

"And what did you do to him?" Zev stepped closer, crowding the guard against the wall. "Tell me exactly."

"Just standard persuasion techniques." The guard's hand drifted toward his weapon. "Nothing that would?—"

Zev moved before the thought fully formed in his mind. His hand shot out, seizing the guard by the throat, slamming him against the stone wall with enough force to crack the back of his skull. Blood welled between Zev's fingers as his grip tightened.

"I killed for his safety," Zev hissed, nose inches from the guard's rapidly purpling face. "And you still hurt him."

The guard clawed at Zev's hand, eyes bulging with panic. His mouth worked soundlessly, feet kicking against the wall.

His pulse fluttered beneath Zev's palm. Soon, he would be unconscious, then dead. It would be easy—so easy—for Zev to tighten his grip just a fraction more. To feel the life drain from this body like he'd felt it drain from the werewolves just hours ago.

The guard's struggles weakened, his eyes rolling back.

This death might bring Zev satisfaction.

The thought broke through his rage like ice water. He released his grip abruptly, letting the guard crumple to the floor, gasping and retching.

Zev stared down at his hand, now literally stained with blood while the guard wheezed, dragging himself away from Zev on trembling limbs.

"Say nothing of this," Zev ordered quietly, "or next time I won't stop."

The guard nodded frantically, one hand protectively covering his throat where bruises were already forming.

Zev glanced at the door to Malik's room.

What would the human think of him if he walked in there with fresh blood on his hand, having nearly killed a guard in a fit of rage? Having killed two werewolves in cold blood just hours earlier?

His hand dropped to his side, fingers curling into a fist so tight his nails cut into his palm, mixing his own blood with the guard's.

He did not need to justify his actions to a human.

"I've changed my mind," Zev decided. "I won't see him tonight."

The guard, still hunched against the wall, didn't respond.

Zev didn't look back as he walked away.