“And I’m very grateful.” He gestured toward the spiral staircase. “Fourth floor. Bedroom. Same as before. Ivan and Azazel can brief us on everything else in the morning.”
She wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that there was no time for rest, not with everything that was happening. But her body betrayed her—the exhaustion of what they’d been through was catching up with her all at once, settling into her bones like lead.
“Fine,” she said again, and this time, she meant it. “But tomorrow?—”
“Tomorrow, we begin.” Raziel’s hand found the small of her back, guiding her toward the stairs. “I promise.”
She let herself be guided. Let herself lean, just slightly, into his touch.
Behind them, she heard Ivan say something to Azazel—low and quiet, not meant for their ears. Whatever it was, Azazel laughed. A real laugh, not the sardonic edge she was used to.
Strange bedfellows, all of them.
Against an empire.
Against impossible odds.
Against everything.
Nadi smiled as she climbed the stairs, her husband—her real husband now, not the convenient fiction of their first marriage—at her side.
They were probably going to die.
But they were going to take a lot of bastards with them.
Fuck it.
She was ready.
TWENTY
The map spread across the table was a recipe for disaster.
A recipe for death.
Theirdeaths.
But maybe,just maybe,it might be someone else’s too.
It was a map of the old Nostrom estate, where the real Monica Valan had died. Where all of this insanity in Nadi’s life had taken a very unexpected turn.
And now?
Now, it was going to be where all of it came to an end, one way or another. She had seen it once before, but now?Now…it was going to hold a very different meaning.
Now, it was meant to host a party for all of the richest vampires and elites the city had to offer.
Nadi studied it in the dim light of the watchtower, tracing the lines of the building with her fingernail while Ivan pointed out guard positions and patrol routes. Azazel stood at the window, his orange eyes fixed on the city beyond, though she suspected he was listening to every word.
“Why drag everyone out there to the old estate?” Nadi shook her head.
“It’s a power move.” Azazel sighed. “Like everything else. ‘Look how safe we are from the fae, we can march right out into the Wild now.’”
Nadi winced. “This still smells like a trap to me, but once word reaches them that we escaped, we may not get a second chance like this…”
“Exactly. And if it is a trap? Well, it’s going to work.” Raziel sighed. “They’re all going to be there. And that far removed from the metropolis, all arriving by boat? They’re going to only be able to do so much to lock the place down.” He stood across from Nadi, his arms crossed, his crimson eyes fixed on the map with an intensity that bordered on hunger. “We don’t have a choice. We won’t get another chance like this.”
“It’s not going to matter. You’re two people. Against how many?” Azazel turned from the window, his expression grim. “Walking in there is fucking suicide.”
