Page 7 of Night Fae (Monsters of Veridia #3)

There it was. The ultimatum laid bare.

Rhys was already dead. Nothing could bring him back. But Malik was alive, somewhere in this palace, depending on Zev to keep him that way.

Still…

"Find someone else for me to kill," Zev said.

"There is no one else," Darius replied. "This is the choice before you. Make it."

Zev glared at the man who'd sired him.

The man who'd raised him not to question what he was doing.

Now he wanted Zev to make a choice?

Ridiculous.

It had been Rhys who'd first taught him that he had choices.

Something sharp and painful dug into his chest, making breathing difficult again.

"One day," he said in a low tone of voice, "I'm going to kill both of you."

That was his choice.

The words had barely left his mouth when Lady Morvena's power slammed into him. Invisible force struck him like a battering ram, sending him sprawling across the hard stone floor. His head cracked against the ground, vision blurring as his grandmother loomed over him.

"Scrub those insolent thoughts from your brain," she hissed, pressing her foot against his throat. The pressure wasn't enough to choke him, just enough to remind him how easily she could. "But hold on to that bloodlust, child. It will serve you well."

Her violet eyes blazed. "Get up. Your weakness disgusts me."

She removed her foot, allowing him to stagger upright, blood trickling from where his head had struck the floor. Darius watched impassively, neither helping nor hindering, his expression unreadable.

That was the way it always was. No one said a word against the family matriarch. Not ever.

Zev didn't speak again either, but he clutched his promise to himself to his heart. These two would die by his hand.

They reached the heavy iron door of the execution chamber. Runes of binding and silencing marked its surface, preventing magic from entering or leaving. Two guards stood at attention, stepping aside as Lady Morvena approached.

The door swung open.

Harsh white light spilled from within, illuminating a stark chamber with a stone floor sloped toward central drains. In the center stood a single occupant, chained to a post.

The werewolf was young—barely past adolescence—with features that echoed Rhys's so strongly that Zev's heart stuttered in his chest. The same defiant tilt of the chin. The same wild hair. Different coloring, different build, but enough similarities that Zev couldn't look away.

Had his family gone out of their way to find someone who resembled his past lover or would Zev glimpse Rhys in every werewolf?

"Kill it quickly or slowly," Lady Morvena said, "but kill it."

Kill your silly feelings.

She didn't say it, but that was what they were asking of him.

Darius handed Zev a blade. His old blade, the one he'd left behind when he fled with Knox. The weight felt familiar in his hand, a perfect balance designed for his grip alone. An extension of himself.

Zev approached the werewolf, whose eyes tracked his every move. No begging, no pleading. He knew his fate was sealed.

"Any last words?" Zev asked quietly.

The werewolf's nostrils flared, scenting him. Recognition flickered in those eyes. "You're the one who ran with my pack." The young werewolf's voice was rough from screaming. "The one who never smiled."

The words sliced through Zev's defenses.

This wasn't any random werewolf. He belonged to Rhys's pack. Had probably sat by the fire while Zev and Rhys wandered away from it, falling into the shadow of the night to fall into each other.

Zev's blood froze in his veins.

If Rhys could see him now…

Would he understand? Would he forgive Zev one more time?

Zev took a shuddering breath and pushed the thought down. He couldn't be thinking about these things. Not if he wanted to do this. No, he didn't want to do this. He needed to do this.

And he could.

He would.

With another breath, he emptied his mind, drawing on night fae instinct. On years of training. It was the only way he would get through this.

He raised his blade.

The werewolf met his gaze. "We considered you pack."

Something shattered inside Zev then—the heart of the person he'd become after escaping the Court. The person who'd sworn never to kill for them again. The person who'd promised Rhys's memory he would be better.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, so quietly only the werewolf could hear.

The blade descended in a perfect arc, severing the carotid artery with an assassin's precision. Blood sprayed across Zev's face, hot and metallic. The werewolf's eyes widened, then dimmed as life drained away in violent pulses.

It was over in seconds. A clean death. The only mercy Zev could offer.

He stood motionless, blade dripping at his side, as something vital inside him crumbled to ash. He couldn't look away from those empty eyes, from the face that reminded him of everything he'd lost, everything he'd failed to protect.

Everything he'd betrayed.

"Excellent," Lady Morvena's voice broke the silence. "Not your prettiest kill, but you haven't lost your touch."

Zev didn't respond. He didn't wish to exchange another word with that woman unless he had to.

"Come," his father said, placing a hand on Zev's shoulder. "You've earned the right to see your human."

Zev shrugged the man's hand off, but he followed Lord Darius out of the room. He'd earned his reward, earned it by doing something he could never undo.

And the worst part was he knew he'd do it again tomorrow.