Lucian’s head snaps toward us. Kieran goes still, his hand tightening around the charm at his throat. I let go of Zane, and he drops to the floor. He tilts his head up at me before he stands, eyes flat, skin pulled tight across his cheekbones like a mask stretched too thin.
“Who’s controlling him?” Lucian demands.
Kieran swallows. “I can’t tell.”
My pulse spikes. “Can’t or won’t?”
“I can’t. Whoever it is—” His gaze sweeps the room, unfocused. “They’re not at this estate.”
Zane’s lips twitch. A crack that might’ve once been a smile. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice scrapes the air, distorted. “You think killing me killsmy master?”
Lucian steps toward him, ready to shift. I am, too, the old instinct kicking in—one I wish I didn’t still have.
Zane’s gaze finds me again. “You always were predictable.”
Something in me snaps. I lunge at him, my fist connecting with his jaw. The bone cracks, and black smoke curls from the split skin before another chunk of flesh falls off.
Wrong. All of this is so wrong.
“Hold him,” Kieran shouts. “I need him still.”
Zane’s arm whips out, but Lucian catches it mid-swing and pins it behind his back. I grab his other arm and force it back against the wall, my body straining against a strength that doesn’t belong to him. Lucian whips out his knife and holds it against Zane’s neck.
Kieran is already chanting, low at first, then sharper, faster. Words that scrape the edge of sound.
“What are you doing?” Zane spits, jerking against me. His face twists—not with rage, or fear, just confusion. “Stop—”
Lucian bears down on the blade, voice flat as he asks Kieran, “Who is the necromancer?”
“I told you…I can’t…He’s not here,” he hisses between chanted phrases. Sweat runs down his temple as his words become louder, more intense.
Zane thrashes, his body bucking. “You think you can burn him out? You’ll never find him! You’ll only get rid of me!”
“That’s fine with me,” I growl.
His eyes flare at Lucian, bright and wrong. “He won’t stop, you know. Not now. Not when he knows your mate is carrying a child. He’ll want both of them.”
He jerks forward, and I slam him back against the wall. His breath smells of smoke and decay. He’s fading, the thing inside him fighting to stay anchored.
Kieran’s voice grows louder, the rhythm of his chants pounding in my skull. Symbols begin to shimmer under Zane’s skin—thin veins of crimson light, writhing like they’re alive.
Lucian grits out, “Finish it.”
“I’m trying!” Kieran snaps, snarling at us. “Keep him still!”
Zane looks at me before his eyes roll back in his head, leaving nothing but white. “He’ll come for you next,” he gasps, voice fracturing. “For her.”
Selene’s name never leaves his mouth, but the intent is clear. The bond between us flares—wild, protective, raw. I shove him harder against the wall, rage turning into motion. “You don’t get to touch her. Ever.”
He laughs again—a jagged, broken sound that dies on his tongue. His body spasms, muscles locking. The glow beneath his skin intensifies, red changing to silver.
Kieran’s voice cuts through everything now, his words burning the air itself. The ground hums under my boots.
“Almost there,” he chokes out. “Don’t let him break free!”
Lucian leans in, blade pressed under Zane’s chin. “Who is the necromancer?”
Zane’s lips part. For a moment, I think he’ll answer. Then, he screams.
