The light faded from her emerald eyes as blood pooled over the silver stars etched into the blade.
I wanted to move. To scream. To stop it all. But I was rooted, helpless—trapped in the nightmare of watching Vespera kill her mother with the very dagger I now carried.
It was a memory, locked in the past, untouchable… yet unbearably real.
Then, from the shadows behind Vespera, a figure emerged—tall, imposing, radiating a power so thick it wrapped around me like a deep, slow tide. Dark and absolute, he was cloaked in midnight robes, embroidered with the same faintly glowing runes that pulsed with ancient magic.
There was something hauntingly familiar about him, but his face blurred, shifting—like my mind refused to let me see the truth, as if the revelation was meant to remain hidden from me.
“It is done,” Vespera said softly, rising with a predator’s grace. She wiped the blood from her gloves with the care of something brushing away a stray thread—like it meant nothing.
The figure stood beside her, stared down at the lifeless body, silent… until he gave a single nod.
“And your father?” he asked, but I couldn’t make out his voice.
A smile curved her lips as she looked up. “He’ll be next.
Their eyes meet—an unspoken understanding passing between them—before the man seized Vespera, crushing his mouth against hers in a brutal, claiming kiss.
Revulsion twisted in my gut. I squeezed my eyes shut. But before I could block it out, a violent surge of raw magic slammed into me, ripping through my chest like a fist.
The world around me splintered—cracking, breaking—shards of sound and light exploding in every direction.
And then… the truth bled into my mind.
Vespera hadn’t been forced. She killed them—her own parents by choice. And the dagger that I have carried with mefor years, believing it to be some dark token from a demon ally of my mothers.
But it was hers.
The very blade she’d used to murder her parents… to claw her way to power… to claim a crown soaked in blood.
All this time, I’d carried it.
A legacy of murder disguised as protection. A curse bound to a lie I never saw coming.
Chapter 31
KIERAN
A week.
Seven brutal days, and she still wasn’t waking up.
I’d sat here long enough to lose count of how many times I’d watched her chest rise—how many times I’d checked to make sure it still did. Sleep? Useless. Eating? Forget it.
All I could do was sit on this god's damned chair, staring at her, like some pathetic fool… willing her to open those stubborn eyes.
We were holed up in some half-rotted house on the edge of the Hollowborn quarter—the part of Velmore Vespera had dumped every soul she deemed weak or magicless.
Her little graveyard for the unwanted.
They had their own stretch of woods behind the houses—twisted, bone-thin trees packed so tight the dark bled between them like ink. The air back there felt wrong, too still… like the forest itself was holding its breath. Even the wind avoided it. You couldn’t pay me to step between those trees—unless I were drunk enough to forget I had a brain.
Ronan was still out cold, and yeah, I was in better shape—but honestly, that wasn’t saying much. Vespera had made it her personal mission to break him. Being chained up while Ronan took every brutal hit to protect temptress, it tore me apart. But I get it. There’s something about her that drags you in, makes youwant to watch her back, keep her safe. Hell, maybe even love her. But that’s not me. I don’t deserve it.
I wouldn’t even know where to start with that kind of thing. I’ve never loved anyone.
And Darian—yeah, that bastard might be my best friend, my brother—but the fact he walked off with Vespera and her merry band of Psychos? Pissed me off more than I can say. He knew we’d been taken. Knew damn well there was a good chance we were getting tortured—Ronan especially—and he did nothing. Not a fucking thing.
