Page 20 of Night Fae

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 twowoulddie 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 hishand, 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'twantto do this. Heneededto 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.