Page 89 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“There.” She pointed toward the far side of the dance floor, where the crowd was thickest. “I think I saw Pip.”

The name hit me like a bucket of ice water, cutting through the wine’s effects with brutal efficiency. Pip. The missing servant from Skyspire. The one who’d vanished during the Hero’s Guild attack. The person I suspected of helping our enemies breach the citadel. After all these weeks, the little bastard had finally surfaced.

I scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar figure—young, brown hair, nervous demeanor. “Are you certain?” I asked, shifting Arabella off me.

“I think so. It was just a glimpse.” She shook her head. “But he was moving toward the back exit.”

I was going to get answers, even if I had to tear them from his mind piece by bloody piece. I conjured three shadow warriors with a thought, their forms materializing from the darkness around our booth. “Stay with Lady Blackrose,” I ordered them. “If anyone approaches her, kill them. If she’s threatened in any way, burn the place down.”

“Kaz, wait—” Arabella started.

“Stay here.” Raw, irrational terror spiked through me. I needed her safe. “If it’s an ambush, I don’t want you caught in it.”

The look she gave me could have frozen hellfire. “What happened to doing everything together?”

She’s weak. She’ll slow you down. The traitor will escape because of her.

The thought slithered through my mind, both foreign and familiar. My jaw clenched as pure, undiluted rage flooded through me, replacing the fear. Pip had betrayed us. Helped enemies into MY fortress. Nearly gotten Arabella killed. The fury was so intense it made my vision blur at the edges.

With a sharp gesture, I sealed the shadow barrier around us. “This is different,” I said coldly. “This is about Skyspire’s security. My failure. My responsibility.”

“Your—” She stood, wobbling slightly from the aftereffects of her orgasms. “Kaz, we talked about this. You promised—”

She questions you? Show her what happens to those who defy the Dark Lord.

I blinked. Where was that voice coming from? It felt wrong, like wearing someone else’s clothes. But the anger—the anger at Pip, at the betrayal, at everything—that was definitely mine. Wasn’t it?

“You will stay here,” I commanded, my voice carrying the weight of dominion magic. I watched her flinch as my power pressed against her, though we both knew it wouldn’t work.

“You just tried to compel me,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. “Like I’m one of your subjects. Like I’m—”

Property. She’s yours. Make her understand that.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. These thoughts—they came in whispers, sliding between my own fury like smoke through cracks. Something was wrong. This wasn’t how I—

“I’m trying to protect you,” I snarled, the rage making my control slip.

“Stop.” Her magic flared, golden light pushing against my shadows. “Listen to yourself. This isn’t you talking.”

She’s trying to control you. Manipulate you. Just like everyone else.

I leaned in, but she didn’t give an inch. “Maybe this is exactly who I am,” I hissed. “The Dark Lord doesn’t need anyone’s permission or help to handle his own domain.”

Arabella glared at me, and the fact that she didn’t have a witty comment or barbed accusation to hurl was worse than if she’d slapped me. Then I saw the tears of fury gathering in the corners of her eyes, and I would have preferred that she had. She could have knocked me across the nightclub with her power, but she turned the full force of her fury on me without lifting a hand.

For a moment, the whispers went silent. In that silence, I saw myself clearly—standing here, trying to dominate the one person who’d chosen to stand beside me.

I’d never made Arabella cry before, as far as I knew, and the soul-crushing guilt made me want to fall to my knees and beg her forgiveness.

But then Pip’s face flashed in my mind, and the rage returned tenfold.

He’s ESCAPING.

“I don’t have time for this,” I said, turning toward the barrier. “Stay or go, I don’t care. But I’m catching that traitor.”

The rational part of me—what was left of it—screamed to stop, to turn around, to fix this. But the fury, the whispers, the need to catch Pip and make him pay—

I dropped the barrier and vaulted over the railing of the VIP section, landing on the main floor and causing a mild panic as people scrambled to get out of my way. But with every step, even through the rage and the wine and those revolting whispers, one thought kept breaking through: