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“I didn’t steal anything that didn’t want to be stolen, you bast—”
“Gentlemen,” I cut in. “I’ll keep the two of you as far apart as possible. But we need you both, so whatever bad blood lies between you, bury it. Saving magickind is bigger.” Then I turn to Shock. “Thank you.”
He shrugs and straightens his sunglasses, distancing himself from the rest of the room.
So now the Doomsday Brethren has four wizards willing to fight. I need more. Even if I hate it, I need Ice.
“What about you, Rykard?”
“Fall in with a bunch of rich pricks and a madman?” Ice laughs harshly. “Hell, no.”
“You want Mathias tearing through magickind?”
“I want to protect what’s left of my family.”
“Then help us stop Mathias.”
“While we’re off playing war, who will keep our loved ones safe? You’ve got a sister. Imagine knowing that sick fuck has taken her and forced her to subm—”
“Leave Sabelle out of this.”
“Why? Mathias didn’t leave Gailene out of his evil schemes. He merely returned her mangled body, scorched with his brand, and forced us to live with the heartbreak.”
“You want revenge. So do something.”
“I don’t need a bored rich boy on a good Samaritan kick for that. I’ll do it myself.”
Ice turns for the door, his long strides eating up the Italian slate floor.
The cause needs him. I have to bring out the big guns.
“Alone, he’d simply kill you, too. Is that what Gailene would have wanted?”
Just then a pop and a puff of white smoke burst in front of my face. Finally. I’ve been waiting for an image of Auropha MacKinnett’s body. Seeing the horror and tragedy should scare the hell out of anyone who has a heart—or a brain in their head. I hate using the girl’s death to bring back memories Ice has tried to bury, but I’m out of more polite options.
“Do you want more innocents winding up like this, like Gailene?” With a flick of my wrist, I hurtle the image across the room, into Ice’s face. “Auropha was fifteen years old.”
The rest of the wizards crowd around.
Arms and legs sprawled wide, she looks up from the image with silent terror in her sightless eyes. Once, she was pretty and sheltered and sweet. Now she looks horrified, violated, and desecrated. Blood soaks her thighs and the ground between. Her pubic hair was removed and the Anarki symbol—Mathias’s signature—branded red into the soft skin there.
“Dear God.” Duke casts his eyes aside.
Lucan grimaces. “Sick bastard.”
Shock clenches his jaw in silence. I’ll need to keep my eye on him…
“This will happen again and again if we fail to band together.” I turn to Rykard. “Ice?”
The big warrior hazards a glance at the image one last time. Fury and vengeance harden his face before he closes his eyes with a sigh. “Fuck. I’m in.”
Chapter Forty-One
Olivia
I stare in the mirror and sigh with frustration.
Marrok hovers close, watching me so intently he never blinks. “Is something amiss?”
