And for that, he’d die.
“Lucien…” came Isadora’s soft voice.
I turned and found her leaning against the wall, her hand cupping her throat. Blood seeped between her fingers. But she was standing and breathing.
She lowered her hand, revealing the wound, and my breath caught. That was not a clean bite. He’d nearly ripped out her damn throat.
Rage surged so hot I saw white.
I turned back to Trystan. His expression was wild and terrified. Not a hint of humanity remained in him. I saw now what Selene meant. Keeping him alive like this was not only cruel but also dangerous. He would bleed the world, if given the chance.
“Izzy, sweetie,” Ricky said, as calm as a June day. “Stay by the wall but come closer. Under my coat on the left side, you’ll find a blade sheathed against my ribs. You’ll feel the hilt.”
He paused and met my gaze.
I nodded.
Isadora did as Ricky said, her bloody fingers eventually revealing a blade, exactly as he’d said.
I stared down at Trystan, still trapped beneath my boot. His chest rose in ragged jerks, bloodied lips snarling at us. I didn’t dare shift my weight for fear of him escaping, but I did extend my hand to Isadora.
“Give me the blade,” I said. “Let me do this for you.”
She didn’t look at me. Instead, she stared at Trystan, sadness dulling her eyes. Then she knelt beside him.
Ricky and I didn’t loosen our holds. We couldn’t risk it. But the vampire no longer fought. His limbs had gone slack and his eyes glassy. Maybe he was too far gone. Or maybe he understood what was coming.
Isadora studied him for a long, aching moment before reaching out to smooth his hair from his brow.
“I’m so sorry, Trystan,” she whispered. “I never meant for anything like this to happen. Didn’t even know it was possible. But you’re hurting people, and we can’t allow you to harm anyone else. I truly wish it didn’t have to end this way.” She sniffled and wiped tears from her cheek, smearing blood across her skin.
Trystan just stared at her, as though transfixed. And for a flicker of a second, something in him changed. The crimson hue in his eyes dimmed and clarity surfaced. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough for him to force out, “It’s okay, Isadora. I want this.”
They locked eyes, and she placed the tip of the dagger against his chest.
Finally, Trystan closed his eyes—to spare her the pain, I suspected.
She simply nodded, then drove the blade through his heart.
A shudder rippled through his body. His mouth parted in a sharp inhale, then came the slow exhale, the last one to ever leave his body. The tension bled from his limbs, and his head fell to the side, eyes still closed.
Isadora stared at him for a heartbeat longer, then, with one smooth pull, she withdrew the dagger and stood.
I moved without thinking, stepping in to steady her. I reached for her arm, ready to pull her close, to offer comfort, anything and everything she needed.
But she stepped out of reach.
Her eyes remained fixed on the body at her feet. Her lips parted like she meant to speak, but she said nothing.
“Isadora…”
She sighed, then turned and walked away.
I wanted to follow, but Ricky’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. “Maybe give her some space, St. Germain.”
I considered it for a moment, then shook him off and followed her out of the house.
Except, by the time I reached the street, she was gone.
