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KAZ

T he hellfire pendant dangled from Rava’s fingers. Her face twisted with disgust as she commanded our tormentor to his knees. My little sister, wielding the very power that had violated us, using it to end this nightmare.

“You will confess your crimes,” she said, her voice shaking with the effort of control. “You will submit to judgment for what you’ve done to everyone you hurt.”

Javed howled and fought against her control like a rabid animal. Even on his knees, the bastard wouldn’t yield. The pendant flickered in Rava’s palm, her grip weakening as the relic’s magic pushed back.

“Nowhere... will be safe,” he spat, golden eyes burning with hatred. “I’ll find you. Make you... pay.”

Red smoke began swirling around him—teleporting. Escaping. Again .

Time slowed. I snatched the ax from the air as Malak’s throw sent it tumbling toward me, the worn handle settling into my palm like it belonged there.

My body moved with practiced coordination, muscles responding to years of training rather than the lingering echo of Javed’s commands that still buzzed beneath my skin.

The ax felt light in my grip, my arm strong despite the bone-deep ache from hours spent beating the orc under Javed’s control.

The orc. Rava’s mate . Another debt I couldn’t repay.

Javed’s teleportation cloud thickened, his form already beginning to dissolve. Not fast enough. I swung the blade into the center of the crimson haze and felt a sickening resistance as it connected.

The prince stumbled backward. Flickered. Half of him materialized inside the ornate chair he’d claimed as his throne. Wood and flesh fused together in a grotesque sculpture, a fitting monument to his twisted reign. His scream pierced the air, high and desperate.

I didn’t hesitate. The ax came down again, cleaving through chair and prince alike.

Blood sprayed across my face. Hot. Metallic. The sound—gods, the sound —of blade separating flesh from wood and bone echoed in the sudden silence of our family hall.

Javed’s head rolled to a stop at my feet, golden eyes wide with shock, mouth frozen in a final scream.

I killed the prince .

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut and stole the breath from my lungs. The ax slipped from my fingers. Clattered against the stone floor. Blood pooled around my boots, seeping into the cracks between the tiles.

For days, I’d been nothing but a weapon in Javed’s hand. A blade he wielded against my own family. My brothers. My sister. The violation of it burned like acid in my veins.

And now I’d become exactly what he made me: a killer.

Only this time, the choice had been mine.

The room tilted around me as I stared at what remained of Prince Javed Fitsum. Heir to the throne. Son to the king. The man who’d been promised my sister’s hand in marriage to finally bring our disputed family lines together.

Fuck .

Malak appeared at my side, his hand gripping my shoulder. “Kaz.” His voice seemed to come from far away. “Kaz, look at me.”

I tore my gaze from the corpse, meeting my brother’s eyes. Blood streaked his face, but his expression was clear, focused. Free of Javed’s control.

“It’s done,” he said firmly.

My tail lashed behind me, betraying the panic building beneath my ribs. “I killed the prince.”

“You killed a monster,” Malak corrected. His fingers dug into my shoulder. “One who tortured his siblings to death. Who would have done the same to Rava.”

I shook my head, unable to process the magnitude of what I’d done. What I’d done to my family. My clan. “The king?—”

“Will understand when we present the evidence.” Malak’s voice was steady. “The relics alone are proof enough of his treason.”

The relics. I darted a panicked look to where Rava had dropped the pendant, then where Javed’s ring lay discarded on the floor. I expected pulsing, malevolent lights and whispering voices from the fires below.

There was nothing. No beacons of power threatening to control or destroy.

Just some glinting of gold, the same as any shiny object catching the light. Waiting for someone to slip on a finger or around a neck.

Waiting to tighten and press and snuff out any stray, unwanted thought of freedom or happiness.

“We need to destroy them,” I told him. “Now.”

Zane approached with a slight limp from the fight. “Agreed. But first, we need to deal with...” He gestured at the mess that had been our prince.

I forced myself to look again at what I’d done. At the head staring up at me with sightless eyes. At the blood coating my hands, my clothes, my home .

The fucking puppet show of Javed’s control twisted in my gut, a phantom pain where his magic had taken root. Even dead, his presence clung to me like a second skin. I could still feel his commands slithering through my mind, forcing my body to move against my will.

Strike your sister. Break her wrist. Make her submit.

My hands trembled with the memory. I’d fought against the compulsion with everything I had, but in the end, I’d still hurt her. Still betrayed her. The shame of it burned hotter than any fire.

Behind me, I heard Rava’s voice: “Kaz, this is Zral Shieldthorn. My mate.”

I turned to see my sister standing tall beside the battered orc, her chin lifted in that stubborn tilt I’d known since she was a child. Challenging me to argue. To protect her. To control her.

Just like Javed tried to do.

The thought sobered me. I studied the orc—Zral—taking in the bruises blooming across his face, the way he favored his right side. Injuries I’d inflicted under Javed’s command. Yet he stood straight, one arm around my sister’s waist, protective despite his own pain.

I stepped forward, clasping his hand in a firm shake. “Welcome to the family,” I said, then yanked him closer, unable to resist one last brotherly threat. “And good luck. This is just a taste of the hell she puts us through.”

Zral’s mouth quirked in a pained smile. “Worth it.”

Rava’s tail flicked against his leg, her eyes softer than I’d seen them in years.

I turned away to give them privacy and joined Malak crouched beside the relics. He looked up at me, his expression grim.

“What now?” he asked quietly.

I stared at the hellfire opal glinting in the pendant, at the gleaming gold of the ring.

Power beyond measure, forged in the depths of the underworld before half-breed demons were locked on the earthly plane.

Just being near them made my skin crawl with warning, a sensation every ifrit was born knowing to fear.

They were capable of enslaving our entire race, of twisting our magic against our will.

Of turning brother against sister, warrior against clan.

“Now,” I said, reaching for the pendant, “we make sure this never happens again.”

The moment my fingers touched the relic, power surged through me—dark, seductive, promising control over anyone who crossed my path. For a heartbeat, I understood why Javed had been so addicted to its use. Why he’d never willingly let it go.

I snatched my hand back as if burned, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Fuck .

The king would demand answers. The Fitsum clan would cry for blood. And I—we—would have to face the consequences of what we’d done here today.

But as I looked at my sister leaning against her mate, at my brothers standing tall and free, I knew I’d make the same choice again. A thousand times over.

I’d killed a prince to save my family.

Now I just had to figure out how to keep us all alive.