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Fucking coward.

“Do Alyvia and Eliphas know you’re here?” I ask.

I’m one wrong answer away from giving her a cut she may or may not live to regret.

“No,” she says hastily. “Please release me, and I’ll explain everything.”

Reluctantly, I let her go. She prods her cheek. Likely checking to ensure I haven’t marred her. Seemingly satisfied, she lowers her voice and says, “The trees overheard Alyvia and Eliphas’s plan to test you and your mate with the Mocking Woods and reported back to Tallis. She said this was my only opportunity to make you suffer for what happened to Catalin and demanded I trap you myself instead of letting the trees do it.”

A branch cracks. We both whip toward the noise. A male creeps from the brush, all dark hair and sun-warmed skin.

Carver.

Or is it?

Avaline pales.

This… this could be one clever ruse. Manipulating me through my kindred, trapping me in a heinous web in another game, another nightmare.

I glare at her. “Another vision?”

“N-no,” she stammers, earthen gaze fixed on my brother.

“It’s really me,” says Carver. “I came the moment I scented Ava.”

I eye him warily. It certainly looks like Carver—same dark hair, playful eyes, and tanned skin. It even sounds like him. But the Heart of the Forest knows him intimately; this could be a scarily accurate projection.

“If you are Carver,” I say, lifting the dagger between us, “you’re going to have to prove it to me. Tell me something Avaline wouldn’t know.”

She says nothing, her fists bunching within the pleats of her skirt.

He considers this for a moment, then grimaces. “Well, to start, the werewolf waiting for you back at Nightfell broke Julian’s window, and you’ve yet to replace it.”

“And you let them live?” Avaline gasps, jaw slackening.

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve changed in the centuries we’ve been apart. Less bloodthirsty after…” His words trail off and he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let Quill and Rory go, Ava.”

“I already told him, I can’t,” she says. Her sharp edges are softening her back into the female I once called a friend. “Tallis will skin me alive if I betray her.”

“Quill won’t let that happen,” he says firmly. “He’s going to become vampire supreme, and once he does, you can come to the Shore of the Damned. You’ll be safe there.”

She recoils. “As safe as Catalin was?”

“That was an accident,” I hiss. “Godrick didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“He didn’t hurt her,” she cries, those edges snapping back into place like shards of glass. “He murdered her. She was my best friend, Quill. I went away with you”—she spits the word at Carver like a silver-tipped arrow—“and next thing I know, she’s gone.”

Carver reaches for her, but she bares her teeth. A warning. His hand drops to his side, fingers flexing.

“Please,” I say vehemently. “I understand you’re afraid of Tallis, but if Mihal continues to reign as vampire supreme, there will come a day when all creatures are forced to bow to him. Do you want to be the reason his evil is wrought upon the world?” I bare my wrist to her. “I already have Nerissa’s vote. Alyvia and Eliphas wait for me in Nightfell to make their support official, as well. I am so close to making things right. For all creatures, for Catalin.”

Uncertainty etches into the lines on her forehead, twinkling in the deep brown of her eyes. “Mihal’s so strong. Catalin once spoke about his power, his ability to wield blood as a weapon. How can you honestly believe you’ll kill him?”

After countless nights spent training alongside Mihal, honing our unique abilities into perfect killing techniques, I’m as familiar with his power as he is mine.

Both are extremely deadly in their own way, and I know I can beat him.

I have to beat him.