“This is for my mother, Calla, and all the other witches you’ve tortured and killed. This is for Sophie, my best friend and the bravest witch I know. And this is for every witch and every woman who’s ever had to hide her truth, her heart, her soul from the world because of men like you.”
Then I reached into my pocket, pulled out a lighter, and lit him on fire.
There were no words for the sounds that came out of his mouth then. No words to describe the smell of his burning flesh.
From the moment I’d brought him here, I thought I’d want to watch, to wait until the flames consumed his body, until the very last smoldering ember died. I thought I’d want to spit on the ashes of his bones.
But hearing his screams? That was enough.
I took one more glance at his burning body, his twitching limbs engulfed, then turned my back on him.
And there before me, gaping at the burning mass of the former king of the hunters, was his son.
Half beast, half something else entirely, the hunter formerly known as Jonathan dragged himself closer, his eyes full of inexplicable agony.
He fell to the ground before the fire, keening, the sound making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
That Jonathan would grieve for the man who’d ruined him was a testament to the power of manipulation, the weaponization of love by those completely incapable of feeling it.
It was tragic. Logically, I knew that. And maybe there was a time when I would’ve felt bad at how things had ended for them. For Jonathan, the first boy I’d ever loved.
But I had no compassion left for the Reese family. The best I could offer Jonathan now was a quick death. And this time, I’d be sure it stuck.
“You’re the last of your line, hunter,” I said to his back. “And this is the end of yours.”
Jonathan didn’t move. I grabbed his head and twisted hard. Fast. Bone snapped, but a broken neck was only a setback for Jonathan. He was, after all, a vampire now, however mutated.
I retrieved the sword from my back. Gripping it tightly, I swung hard and true, decapitating him instantly.
As Jonathan’s blood dripped from my blade, I watched just long enough for the flames to lick across the grass and catch his body, swallowing him in the inferno, the blaze burning father and son out of existence.
Feeling lighter than I had in years, I walked back along my path, taking in the whole of my realm—the black skeleton trees, silver eyes glittering from the branches. The scents of lilac and lavender. The rolling meadow, and the lake that seemed to appear and disappear at will.
I loved this place. It had brought me back to my magic when I was certain I’d never feel its warm touch again.
But now, it was time to say goodbye.
I sat down on the path, digging my fingers into the dirt, and closed my eyes, slowly releasing my hold, slowly letting it go.
When I opened my eyes, I was back on the material plane with Darius, right where I’d left him. It was clear that only moments had passed here, just as I’d intended.
He pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“Ronan?” I asked. “Have you seen him?”
Darius shook his head. “Let’s go find him, shall we?”
We headed back to the side of the street where another skirmish had broken out, weaving through a cluster of witches and hybrids, helping them take out the last few enemy shifters.
We dispatched them quickly, and I was ready to be on my way again. But a flash of movement in the shadows in the alley beside us caught my eye, and I turned just in time to see her.
Alive. In person. Real.
The woman who’d once called herself my mother.
Her eyes locked on mine, gleaming with pure, unadulterated hatred.
“Youdie, Shadowborn filth,” she announced.
