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The blond’s eyes roamed over my face once more, and then he laughed, low, unhinged. “These are my children,” he spat. “Whatever illusion of ownership you think you have, it isn’t real. It’s a fantasy the King and Queen let you believe.” His voice rose, frayed at the edges with something unwell. “You really think the crown, or your little perception of power, will let you take my children from me? I’ll tell you now… None of them are going anywhere.” As his voice echoed through the room, the music stopped. The crowd fell into silence, heads turning our way. His henchmen stepped forward one by one, forming a wall at his side.

I let my eyes sweep across them, memorizing every face, every threat forming in front of me. My jaw tightened. “You should have just let me have them,” I whispered, shaking my head. The air around my fingertips started to pulse, vibrant swirls of red and violet light curling out from my hands, twisting in chaotic motion. My fury took form, and the room felt it. From each of my palms, three vivid strings of magic unraveled, ribbons of molten red, deep violet, and icy blue. I pushed power through my fingertips, and they slithered out like serpents, targeting the blond and brunette first.

The cords coiled around their ankles, winding up their calves, then snapped around their torsos and throats with a vicious elegance. The magic burned as it tightened, forcing them to hover midair, writhing in my grasp. The others didn’t deserve my full attention. With a flick of my wrist, I hurled the remaining four across the lounge. Their bodies crashed against the back wall like discarded dolls, skulls snapping back into stone with a sharp, echoing crack. They dropped like stones, unconscious.

My eyes locked with Martha’s only for a moment, and I could see the fear that gleamed behind them as she watched the horror unfold, silently taking it all in. And before I could really register her own fear, my fury talked me out of it.

The two in my grasp clawed helplessly at the ribbons binding them midair, faces flushed and eyes wild. Then, chaos. Four more rushed me, screaming for their false king, but a blinding white light surged through the room. It blasted them back mid-charge, flinging their bodies across tables and chairs, furniture splintering on impact.

Around us, the crowd erupted in panic. Screams filled the air as patrons scrambled toward the exits, only to find Arianna standing there still, unmoved. She blocked the exit like death in a velvet cloak, her lips curled in amusement. One by one, behind me, I heard bones crunch and screams dissolve into silence. Arianna clearly enjoyed every second of the horror. Her smile curved like a scythe as bodies dropped one after the other, unseen but unmistakably brutal.

Mark and Martha still sat frozen in their chairs, their expressions pale, eyes wide with quiet horror as they watched the slaughter unfold. From the anguish on Martha’s face, I knew it was enough for her.

But not for him.

My attention flared back to the brunette still caught in my ribbons. His eyes met mine, pleading, and that only sharpened my resolve. The cords around his throat twisted tighter, constricting until no breath could pass. I watched as his face turned purple, then blue.

And then, slowly, deliberately, I let the thread slice.

It cut clean through flesh and sinew, until blood streamed down the glowing ribbons like ink, and his head dropped with a heavy thud, rolling across the floor into the shadows. In the end, it was his own fault. If he had played nicely, this wouldn’t have happened.

He forced my hand, and I had to play it.

The blond didn’t get the same courtesy. I flung him to the ground like spoiled meat, letting his skull crack against the floor. He didn’t move. Good. I let the remaining body collapse in a heap beside him.

“Come on,” I shouted, my voice cold.

Martha stood wordlessly from Mark’s lap. She didn’t speak, just grabbed him by the collar of his tunic and dragged him to his feet. They moved together across the room, stepping over rivers of blood as the strobing red lights flashed around us like a heartbeat.

The massacre was hidden perfectly in the rhythm of it, as if nothing had ever happened.

TAINTED| CHAPTER 27

Ring around the Rosie

Valentina’s POV

Mark clawed at the hands locked in his collar, his heels skidding across the white tundra. Martha’s grip held tight, dragging his body forward. She was still so fresh in her immortal life that all her strength overpowered him, and the blood that ran through her was pure as ice.

My mother and father were both formidable, and each carried abilities willed for nobility. I inherited my mother’s ribbons. Those deadly tendrils held me close tonight, almost as close as Martha held Mark. She must have carried some of that same magic within herself now, bound to her through me as her sire.

“Martha!” His voice was strained in the cold wind. “Get off me!” He clawed at her hand again, but it was no use. She wasn’t letting him go, and each time he thrashed, she only heaved him closer. His features soured as he nearly slipped on the ice.

“You’d rather your wife handle you than me,” Arianna threatened coldly. Her gaze landed on him for only a moment, but the threat landed. She already seemed fed up with the sound of his voice breaking the quiet, and I couldn’t blame her. Heat flared under my skin with irritation at every word.

We passed through thick cold on a nearly abandoned street, no witnesses, no questions. The small brick shacks lined the road, glowing dimly from within. Thatch layered the roofs, breaking through the night, the straw whispering in the wind but sturdy against the stacks. Candlelight peeked through linen-covered windows, dark shadows drifting across the soft glow. People were awake… just not coming outside. It was better this way.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Mark choked out, uncaring of the quiet calm of the suburb. His boots jerked upward at a steep angle, and Martha stumbled, losing her grip and balance. Her spine slammed against his chest as they both collapsed in a swirl of winter dust. Sprays of silver mist scattered through the air as they landed in a pillowy white heap.

“What is wrong with you?” Martha snapped from beneath him, panting. She caught herself on her palms, Mark’s heavy body pressing her deep into the powder. She tried to push herself free, but his hand clasped around her wrist, pinning her down.

I was at her side in a blink, the storm of my emotions still simmering in my chest. Hate began to seep into my body with every movement he made; my fingers itched with power beneath my skin.

Except Alex wanted him alive.

This bastard was going to have to earn back the trust he trampled. Handing it over blindly the first time? That had been my mistake. If I had known he had ties to this city, I would never have trusted him to know the way back to Arianna’s home. My hand flew out to grasp his shoulder, heaving him backward into the snow. His spine cracked against the ground in a thunderous clap, and my heel met his chest in the very next motion. My gaze locked on his for two seconds before my other hand reached back for Martha’s.

Her fingers gripped mine tight as I hauled her free from the slurry beneath him. She dusted melted snow from her hair and cloak as a violent shiver ran through her spine. The cold finally seemed to bite at her, the tip of her nose blooming red.