Reagan’s rage was a thing to behold if he let it out, but now it warred with dangerous calm. He was no longer reckless to the point of damning himself to impulse. No, he had thought long and hard about this, and even though his bloodlust was high, it quieted in view of the plan that would give the Scions the punishment they deserved and still abide by defence procedure.
He did not fear three against one. He was looking forward to it.
“Alright,” he said, motioning Heil closer.
The captain sighed but obeyed, stepping forward with visible reluctance, the black-stitched leathers he wore streaked with the residue of the woods. Heil was almost the same size as Reagan, and if he wanted to, he could do real damage.
“Make it good,” Reagan said, rolling his neck until it cracked.
“I don’t know about this, Reagan,” Heil muttered.
“You said—”
The captain’s fist connected with his jaw before he could finish, the impact rattling his teeth. Spit pooled in his mouth and Reagan cursed under his breath, turning towards the window to spit it out.
“Actually, that felt quite good,” Heil remarked, sounding far too pleased as he retreated to the doorway and peered outside, his attention fixing on the level below. “Well, it appears we’re just in time. The room’s empty. Remember, they have five kilometres before they can fling. And judging by Freddy’s gesture, they’re running south.”
Reagan’s hands flexed, his jaw pulsing as he drew on the stir of power that rose in his well, and he strode for the door.
“I’ll just nicely bring them back. We clean the damage and head to court,” he said, his voice feigning normalcy and calm.
Heil didn’t deign to respond, his features set in a mask of contemplation, seeing straight through him.
“What?” Reagan asked, out of curiosity for that expression. “Do you think I’m wrong?”
Heil’s eyes flicked between the treeline beyond the open corridor and his Lord’s face. “You gave them a chance to sit and wait for judgement. If they had any sense, they’d know that was their best option.” The captain’s mouth tightened as he studied Reagan. “Youwouldhave just brought them to justice if they had stayed. Right?”
Reagan inclined his head, weighing the question. Would he just deliver the Scions to Malory? Would he simply escort Caius to a nice, civil judgement? The man who inflicted his torture.Hertorture. Her broken rib.
“Does it matter?” Reagan asked, the words cool and final.
Then he flung, landing near the exit the Scions had used, and began tracking their footprints. They weren’t far, probably believing they’d already escaped.
Reagan moved between the trees, the gravel scrunching beneath his boots while he waded through the shadows cast by the grey sky, and wished briefly for his familiar’s stealth.
He found them, three dark shapes scurrying ahead.
Reagan veered right, fixing on the one who had driven a knee into Gwinifer’s stomach. He marked the location, and in a heartbeat, the Scion was beside him. Reagan’s hand clamped around his throat, and they vanished.
The next instant they were on the ground. Dirt filled the man’s mouth as Reagan pinned him by the neck. His vision turned red. The Scion clawed at his wrists, eyes bulging as he recognized him.
“I thought my patrol told you to stay put,” he whispered, smiling at the man.
The Scion tried to speak, but only a choking sound left him. Reagan hushed him, listening for the others. They had stopped, whispering to one another. He let his thoughts slip into the rhythm of the man’s blood, felt his pulse hammering against his palms, the warmth rising.
That was what satisfied him, feeling blood heat beneath the skin, like a child practicing elemental arts on water. Innocent enough to hide just how blistering it could become.
He shifted, drove his knee into the man’s groin, pressed down with weight. The man cried out without sound.
There was gravel in Reagan’s voice when he spoke. “Calm yourself. You’re fading too fast. I can barely enjoy this.” His grip tightened, blisters forming on the man’s skin, yet the Scion couldn’t make a sound. The man’s eyes rolled back. “This is for her and for my sister.”
Reagan stood, leaving the body to sag in the dirt, paralysed until he was done.
The second was easy to find. They had split, as though they preferred to rely on luck rather than fight together. They probably thought it would slow him. Instead, it exposed them for what they were, incapable of trusting anyone but themselves. Not battle mages. Just depraved scum who revelled in cruelty, who sought out the innocent simply because they could.
He collided with the man’s back, driving him face-first into the ground. The Scion thrashed beneath him, grunting and pleading. Sweet spirals of adrenaline filled Reagan’s body as he twisted the man’s arm. Twisted so far that the shoulder cracked out of its socket. The scream echoed under the canopy.
“Thank you so much for running,” Reagan said casually, forcing the arm further, enjoying the man’s agonizing wails. “I think you were the one who kicked my emissary. And still, today, you try an attempt onmylife?”
