“Do you know what it's like to love someone so much you'd die for them, even knowing they’d never do the same for you? To love them so much your heart breaks every time they say your name because you fear each time will be the last? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
My heart squeezed in my chest, but I refused to give her an inch. Refused to let her manipulate me into thinking we had anything in common other than one very unfortunate, long since outgrown crush.
“No, Fiona. But Idoknow what it’s like to love someone so much you go to sleep every night praying you don’t dream, because if you dream about them, waking up feels like losing them all over again. I know what it’s like to replay the memory of someone you love saying your name a thousand times a day because you fear today might be the day you finally forget the sound of their voice. And I know what it’s like to watch someone you love die right before your eyes because someone like you decided to take something that never belonged to them in the first place.”
My eyes burned right through her, and I was suddenly overcome with the strange and inexplicable urge to bite her. I wanted to jump into her lap, sink my teeth into her skin, rend the flesh from her bones.
Magic pulsed across my palms, and her eyes widened.
Obliterate her…
Darius stepped up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. I felt the lightest tough of his mental influence brush against my mind, almost as if he were asking permission to be there.
The sensation was odd, but not unpleasant—like going outside with wet hair in the winter, but on the inside of my head.
I closed my eyes and took in a breath, letting down the walls I hadn’t even realized I’d erected, inviting him in. His presence washed over me, cool and soothing.
“What can you tell us about his plans?” Darius asked Fiona, still keeping his hands—and his thoughts—on me.
“I don’t know what his endgame is,” she said.
“That’s easy,” Ronan said, speaking up for the first time. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how quiet they’d all been. “The hunters’ endgame is always the same. They want to eradicate witches and steal their magic.”
“Not Jonathan.” Fiona shook her head. “He’s not like his father and the others. He… took a different path.”
“Elaborate,” Asher said.
“Well, the way he explained it, his father’s generation is old-school. Pitchforks and torches, root out the witches, burn them to the ground, that sort of thing.”
“That sort ofthing?” This, from Emilio, whose low growl sent shivers down my spine. He stepped up close to her, grabbing the chains at her chest. “Do you think this is just a game, vampire? Witches—women andgirls, some of them younger than you—are being murdered. Kidnapped. Tortured. All because they’re born with something through no choice of their own that the hunters decided belongs to them.”
Emilio, who’d been the strong and silent partner behind me through this entire ordeal, was shaking with rage. I’d ever seen him so angry.
Fiona had the grace to lower her head.
Emilio finally backed off, coming to stand beside me. Despite his anger, when his eyes met mine in the dim space, they were soft and kind, melting me just a little bit.
“Go on,” Darius told her.
“Jonathan… He’s big on technology. Inventions. Experimentation. When one fails, he just comes up with something else. He’s always testing new ways to track down witches—not just from magical hotspots, but high-tech stuff like cell phone records and internet tracking, social media posts, credit card records, municipal security cameras. He’s even hired private investigators a few times.”
My blood ran cold at her words. All this time, we assumed it was the magic. For so many years, it hadalwaysbeen the magic.
But if what she was saying were true…
God, how many other hunters were doing the same thing? Ditching the old ways in favor of electronic footprints and readily-available spy tech? How could any witch hope to disappear—to go truly underground—in a society where privacy was quickly becoming a currency not everyone could afford to trade?
“How did he track me?” I asked. I didn’t have credit cards or anything else in my real name, and I didn’t use social media. Even my cell phone was untraceable. At least, I’d always thought it was.
“You were different, Rayanne.” Fiona looked up at me, her eyes flaring with jealousy. “He always said you two shared a special connection. He never liked to talk about it with me, though. You were his white whale.” At this, the ghost of a grin crossed her lips, almost as though she were glad he’d finally caught up with me. “He’s been looking for you for a long, long time.”
I fought off a shiver. Darius tightened his hands on my shoulders, and Emilio stepped closer, sliding an arm around my waste.
“Enough, bloodsucker,” Asher said, his lip curling in disgust. “Your boyfriend’s witch-killing days are over.”
“Killing?” Fiona shook her head. “Oh, no. He’s not trying tokillwitches. He’s trying to turn them.” She sat up straighter in the chair, her chains clinking as they weighed down her shoulders. “And he’s not just using vampire blood, either. He’s experimenting with all kinds of hybrid techniques—shifter blood, fae magic, demonic possession. The witches who died… that was accidental.”
“But… Why?” Ronan asked. “What’s the point of all that?”
