Page 9

“You offered her what, exactly?”

Bastian’s tone was full of mockery, but also disbelief.

Valen didn’t look up from the motorcycle he was pretending to work on.

“She’s given up enough,” he said.

Bastian laughed. “So you’re going to help her run away? Of all the stupid fucking ideas—” Bastian threw a wrench into a pile of gears and metal, and the crash echoed through the garage. Valen finally looked up, his features twisted in irritation.

“She’ll never leave,” Bastian snarled. “Our little bird can’t fly too far away. Besides, Lucian would never let her go. Not now. Especially since she’s used the grimoire.”

Bastian’s laugh was cruel. “Imagine what Lucian would do to her— Imagine what he’d do to you, brother .”

Our father didn’t understand the word mercy. Bastian wasn’t wrong about that.

“She won’t risk it,” I said. “She might be na?ve, but she’s not stupid.”

“And what did you offer her?” Valen countered. “She came to me for help— The blood bond we made holds us to her— We can’t just stand aside and let Lucian take her. You know what he’s going to do.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down at him. “Do we?”

Valen’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply.

“She’s not powerful enough to stand against Lucian,” Bastian said. “If she wants to survive this, she has to be stronger— She might have taken that girl’s magic, but it’s not enough. If we try anything, Lucian will wipe us out. All of us.”

It was rare to see Bastian lose his sarcastic edge, and the sincerity in his voice surprised me. If we hoped to stand against our father, Avril would need to be stronger. She would have to give more of herself to the grimoire.

It was a brittle silence that fell over the garage and Valen bent his head back to his work, but the crank of the torque wrench against the motorcycle’s guts had an angry urgency to it.

I imagined how Lucian would twist Avril’s innocence—he’d been watching her for years, and even though I didn’t know my father’s plans, it was clear enough that she was integral to them.

But how?

She wasn’t strong like my mother—and she was nowhere near as powerful.

If Lucian sought an equal—it wasn’t Avril.

Not by a long shot.

Then why her?

The fact that Valen was willing to risk it all for her filled me with unease—sentiment was dangerous.

She might be bound to us by blood, but he was the one truly tethered.

Bastian broke the quiet first. “If we want this to work, we have to make her stronger,” he said. “Lucian hasn’t detected the blood bond— If he had, he would have come down on us already.”

A thought seared through my mind. Something that hadn’t occurred to me before.

“Unless he’s not threatened by it.”

The silence was heavy this time and Valen looked up from his work. “Shit.”

“Shit,” Bastian agreed and then he let out a furious groan. “You idiots— How could he not know?”

The wrench slipped from Valen’s hand and clattered to the concrete as he straightened abruptly, his body tense as if ready for a fight.

“Don’t panic,” I said. “There’s—”

He paced the length of the garage, his movements taut with frustration. I knew he wanted another way—one that didn’t drag Avril deeper into our darkness—but there wasn’t time for idealism. Not anymore.

Before the tension could sharpen further, I noticed a tiny figure approaching the garage from the direction of the house.

“Get your shit together,” I snarled.

Bastian struck Valen on the arm to try to distract him, and Valen rewarded him with a glare as he stopped pacing and leaned against one of the workbenches.

The figure drew closer and his feet crunched over the gravel. His hunched posture announced him as one of Lucian’s favored lapdogs. The dark-robed figures were a familiar sight in the mansion, but I never saw them outside…

What the fuck was going on?

The strangely sallow man paused at the edge of the garage door, but didn’t enter.

“What do you want?” I demanded, keeping my tone as imperious as my father’s.

He bowed, a sickly obsequiousness in the gesture. “Master Titus,” he wheezed. “Your presence is requested.”

“Imagine that,” Bastian said, feigning surprise. “Father’s favorite called to his side.”

Valen watched me, waiting to see if I would rise to the bait. I didn’t give him the satisfaction.

I turned back to the servant. “Tell him I’m busy.”

The creature’s eyes widened with fear. “Master Lucian insisted.” His watery eyes tracked over my brothers. “He wants all of you. Immediately.”

“Well,” Bastian snorted as he straightened and tugged on the lapels of his leather jacket. “This must be important.”

The man turned expectantly, and while I didn’t want to follow him, we hadn’t been left with much of a choice.

The others followed, but we weren’t in any hurry, and Lucian’s twisted little minion shrank in front of us as he hurried back down the path that led to the house.

Whatever Lucian wanted—it wasn’t going to be good.

It seemed too convenient that we’d just been discussing him.

What if I was right?

What if he did know about the oath that we had sworn to Avril in blood? He had to have sensed it.

We’d been fools to undertake such a spell under his roof… but Avril had been impulsive and it was impossible to deny her what she’d demanded of us.

But if it didn’t matter to Lucian—if he knew and hadn’t punished us—I needed to know why.

My brothers and I crossed the threshold of Lucian’s study with deliberate care, wary of the fury we could all sense lurking like a coiled snake. My father’s presence dominated the room, a malevolent force of will that seemed to bend the very air around it. The mist-wreathed orb that hovered above his desk pulsed in time with his heartbeat and its red glow stained his pale hair and spilled down over the papers strewn across his desk.

“You took your time,” he said. “Have you nothing better to do than squander my patience?”

“Your messenger has short legs,” I replied.

His gaze lingered on me, but I didn’t flinch or look away from his pale glare. He seemed to be about to say something, but then he shifted in his seat and rested his elbows on the polished wood of his desk. “I have been informed,” he began, “that there are traitors within the Black Council.”

“Traitors?” Bastian’s surprise wasn’t convincing. “I thought they’d all been rooted out… the purge—”

“It was not fulsome enough,” he snapped. “They think me blind,” our father continued, “but I see them all.”

His anger was a tangible thing, and the red orb that hovered over his shoulder glowed brighter and its mist swirled faster.

“You will find them,” Lucian commanded, a fervent gleam in his eye. “You will root them out before they take everything I have built.”

His paranoia was a madness that defied all reason. To him, there were enemies in every shadow, and conspiracies lurked beneath every whispered word.

Bastian spoke first, eager to please. “We’ll destroy them, Father. Before they can move against you.”

Lucian’s lip curled into something that resembled a smile. “See that you do.”

“What of the Council’s Elders?” Valen asked. “Are there those you would wish to be left untouched?”

“I want blood,” Lucian interrupted in a tone that was sharp as glass. “And if you fail me, it will be yours.”

The finality of his words silenced us.

He had threatened us before, but this time was different.

I could see it in the way he moved, the tension in his shoulders.

We would be dead to him—or worse—if we didn’t deliver.

He flicked his hand. A clear dismissal.

“Go,” he said as he resumed his perusal of the books and papers spread out in front of him.

What was he looking for?

He wouldn’t respond to any further questions, and we all understood it was best not to seek any explanations from him.

We retreated with measured steps, unwilling to turn our backs too soon.

Only after we entered the hallway and the echoing slam of the heavy doors closing behind us started to diminish was I able to take a full breath.

Bastian’s resentment hung in the air like smoke as we walked through the long hallways. Lucian would want us to leave immediately. But I didn’t even know what we were looking for.

Corruption was easy to find… but what he was looking for?

“Well,” Bastian said as he pushed open the front door and stepped out into the mist-laden air, “that went splendidly.”

Valen kept his mouth shut. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Come on, brother,” Bastian taunted him. “Don’t be shy. Tell us what you think of all this.”

The shadows and the silence stretched longer than I expected.

I glanced at our bastard brother, Bastian saw him as a threat—at least he had when they were younger. I wasn’t sure how he felt about it now.

“Nothing to say, as usual. Probably pining for the little bird in her ivory tower.” Bastian moved quickly, walking toward the garage with long strides. “I knew he’d find some way to punish me,” he said.

“We,” I corrected. “We’re all being punished. Lucian’s not subtle.”

Bastian didn’t look back, and his response was a raised middle finger.

Valen and I trailed behind, and I could feel the question brewing in him.

“You think he knows?” Valen asked at last, low enough to remain unheard beyond our circle.

It was what I dreaded most. Lucian’s web was vast, his spies unfathomably skilled. He’d known of Dario Velez’s plot twenty years ago—he couldn’t have missed ours. Not entirely.

“I’d be an idiot to believe that he didn’t suspect something,” I said. “But he doesn’t know enough.”

“Yet.”

One word, dangerous like a blade pressed to my throat. Valen shifted his gaze to the horizon, where Withermarsh loomed like a watchful specter. He was worried about Avril—that was obvious—but we wouldn’t be able to protect her from Lucian if we couldn’t even protect ourselves.

“Keep your mind on Lucian and his demands,” I said in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t his place to argue. “We can’t give anything away.”

My mind raced as we joined Bastian, who was already revving the engine of the black SUV with impatient fingers drumming on the wheel. We would need to move faster, risk more.

“Get out,” I snapped. “Take your bike.”

Bastian opened his mouth to complain and then slid out of the driver’s seat to let me step past him.

“So,” he called over the rumble of the motor as I climbed in. “How many volunteers should we gift wrap for Father?”

“A half dozen should keep him busy,” I replied. “And let’s leave them breathing this time.”

Bastian smirked, devilish and bright. “I’ll try not to break them too badly.”

Our youngest brother wouldn’t need to push hard; even after the purge that had already taken place, a whisper of Lucian’s displeasure would send most of the Council scrambling to unveil new treacheries… even if they had to invent them to keep Lucian’s eye turned away from their actions.

“Good.”

Valen locked eyes with me, but only for a moment before he grabbed his helmet and shoved it down to conceal his features. Bastian snatched his helmet from the back of his bike and straddled his sleek black motorcycle.

“You’d better keep up, brother,” Bastian mocked him as Lucian threw his leg over his own bike. Valen’s posture didn’t change as he turned the key and kicked the bike to life.

The roar of the engine filled the garage and Bastian rolled his eyes dramatically before he pushed his helmet over his blond curls and the roar of his bike joined Valen’s.

He peeled out of the garage, and Valen followed, their bikes tearing down the road toward Messana.

I watched them go until distance and mist blurred their figures.

Bastian was right: this was punishment.

Our father had set us an impossible task, one meant to test our loyalty or break us completely.

I had no doubt that Lucian suspected enough to know we were lying to him, and he would savor every moment of our downfall.

Unless we could stop him.

There was no room for error now. Lucian’s paranoia would only heighten in the days to come, and with it, his vigilance. We needed a distraction big enough to blind him, but subtle enough not to alert him.

Avril might be that distraction, but she was also a risk we could scarcely afford. Valen’s fascination with her was growing dangerous; it clouded his judgment and threatened to unravel everything. If Lucian turned his attention toward Avril… I didn’t trust that Valen wouldn’t do something stupid.

Or Bastian.

I barely trusted myself.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I pressed the accelerator and followed my brothers down the road that led into Messana.

Avril should have been our plaything.

If she had been anyone else, it would have been easy.

But there was something about her—something addictive. And our initial aims—even the bet we’d made to claim her—had all been left in the dust.

She burned in my mind.

And as much as I wanted to forget, as much as I wanted to push her away, I couldn’t.

The goddamned blood bond was the cause of it. It had to be.

There was no other explanation.

Well, there was one—

I gritted my teeth against the intrusion.

Even with that possibility looming, I couldn’t stop.

She had seared herself into my thoughts, and the more I tried to resist, the more deeply she burned there.

My hands were tight on the wheel as I caught up with Valen and Bastian and trailed them into the city.

The streets of Messana swallowed us into the chaos of twilight—our headlights sliced through the encroaching darkness, and the neon glow of the storefronts blended together as we rushed by.

This city had been our playground once.

We’d owned it and did whatever we wanted, when we wanted to.

People feared us.

Hated us.

But no one stood in our way.

Now it felt like Lucian’s eyes were on every corner, waiting for us to slip.

Bastian veered left, toward where most of the Black Council made its home. The upper city was polished and landscaped—the members of the Council were hidden in plain sight. Business leaders. Educators. Spiritual figureheads. Sages.

Damned Sages.

Bastian would get his traitors, but he wouldn’t have fun doing it. Not this time.

Valen followed close behind.

“I want blood—”

Lucian’s words echoed in my mind.

He’d get what he asked for. My brothers and I would see to that.