But I will never let Vespera have me, and I won’t let them get hurt.
She will never get the chance.
Sorry, Xarothar.
I press my palm flat against his chest. It doesn’t register to him what I am about to do—until it’s too late.
“Have fun in hell.”
My magic lashes out, a silent command through my bloodstream. Heat blooms beneath my hand, then erupts. He jerks, eyes wide as fire floods in his veins. His scream tears through the air, high and choking as blood bubbles from his nose, ears, eyes—every fragile place magic can find. His skin blisters, boils rising and splitting as he tries to rip away from me—but I hold him there, teeth clenched, as I watch him die in front of me. The stench of burning flesh thickens the air as my magic pulses through every fibre of me. By the time he crumples to the floor next to me, he’s nothing more than a twitching heap of scorched muscle and melted meat.
Gross. I’m sick of guts and blood to last a lifetime.
A splintering headache crashes against my skull. I bite down hard on my lip to hold back a whimper or cry. Biting my tongue, I force myself upright, clutching the dagger like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this moment.
“Now,” I say, straightening up, “do you want to end up like them?” I nod toward the dead bodies around us. “Because I suggest you get the hell out of here before I kill you and send your pieces as a present to the queen bitch. Nobody comes for mine and lives, not again.”
The two exchange a tense glance before shoving Drew and Daleyza forward. Daleyza stumbles against me, and somehow—despite the sharp, searing pain stabbing up my back and the haze clouding my vision—I hold us steady.
Cowards.
For a fleeting second, I catch my breath, the crushing weight of worry easing just enough to let me think straight. But before they could make it out the door with their tails tucked between their legs, the world shifted.
Suddenly, something moves with ruthless precision—heads roll across the floor, and it feels like the room closes in.
Darian stands amid the wreckage, his face angry. His eyes are sharp, dark storms of fury and cold calculation. As they lock onto me. His sword is gripped tightly, gleaming with deadly intent, an extension of the rage taking over him. He doesn’t hesitate. With the silent menace of a predator, he moves forward—every step heavy and precise with promise of destruction.
“I shouldn’t have let you back into my life or into theirs.”
He moves through the wreckage with calmness, stepping over the bodies and shattered furniture like it isn’t there. Daleyza holds onto me tightly, edging forward, trying to put herself between me and her brother.
But she doesn’t need to, even if I appreciate it. I’m not helpless, especially when it comes to him.
Drew squares up beside me, a steady support. “She’s not to blame for any of this.”
Darian’s glare cuts through the room like ice. “That’s a lie. I’ve been standing outside a room listening to Ronan and Kieran getting tortured because of her.” His finger jabs at me, voice laced with fear. “Explain why I shouldn’t drag her back to save them? She means nothing to me.”
His words slam into me. My grip on his sister tightening, the weight of it all pressing down on my chest.
“If you take me, I lose the chance to save them. To save you.”
His face hardens. “I don’t need saving.”
“Yes, you do.” I fire back, pain shooting through my side, but I stand firm. I can’t let it take over.
“She just saved us.” Drew snapped. He glanced at me over his shoulder, his arm slipping around my waist to steady me.“If it wasn’t for her, we’d be dead. So, cut her some damn slack.”
Darian's eyes didn’t waver. “That doesn’t change the fact that she’s the reason we were in this mess to begin with.”
I pushed forward, slipping between the twins to stand square in front of the one person besides my mother who meant the world to me.
“You think I wanted any of this?” My voice was rough, brittle with anger and pain. “That I want them to get hurt?”
“You’re a walking disaster. Nobody would even care if you fucking died.”
I didn’t hesitate. My palm connected hard with his cheek. “Fuck you.”
His head snapped to the side, but instead of anger, I saw something emptier—a hollow shadow where love and happiness used to be. My chest twisted painfully, a cold ache spreading through me. For a second, I catch a glimpse of the ghost of who we were—and realise I might lose him forever. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. Some fractures don’t mend, no matter how much you want them to.
