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Wait, didn’t he press a button on a device before all of this happened?
Did he somehow just kill five hundred people to bring us here?
A wave of dizziness washes over me as I realize what kind of mates fate chose for me.
Dangerous.
But heartless, too.
Murderers.
Jasper had taken a life only moments before I met him. It had been for my protection, so I’d justified it, but it was still murder.
Zyran showed me his capacity for death and destruction—but I couldn’t fault him for that. He was protecting us, and those enemies had already been dead, anyway.
Kor, though, makes me question everything.
He caused five hundred deaths just to bring us here. How could that ever be justified?
Royce curses. “Gold and Garnet’s going to pay for this.” Another shout comes from the hallway, making Royce run his fingers through his black hair. “I need to go handle the fallout of this attack.” He gives Kor a pointed look. “I’ll come in the morning to utilize the death stone to talk to my cousin about striking back, but also about your little witch here.” He winks at me, making my stomach churn. “Do you need blood vials for that?”
Kor nods. “At least three.”
“Consider it done,” Royce says, leaving me confused as he hurries off with the group of youthful-looking warlocks.
Those must be male relatives of the patriarchs trying to bring their leaders back,I marvel. Terror grips my heart and I’m tempted to open up a channel to my sister and warn her, but I can’t bring myself to do so.
She’s been beating at my walls for hours now, but I have no idea how to explain any of this to her. I also don’t want her to do anything risky, like try to save me.
This ismyproblem, one I’m going to deal with on my own. Fallon has come to my rescue too many times to count and she doesn’t deserve a sister who keeps risking her life. Guilt has weighed on me too long and I can’t bear one more thing on my conscience.
I already have at least a thousand souls added to my tally as it is. Five hundred in Lapland because Daithi wanted to come after me, and now another five hundred because Kor wanted to save me.
A death witch knows better than most that the medium doesn’t matter—sheis always the catalyst.
It’s time for me to do my part for Fallon’s sake—to protectherfor once.
Yet, keeping her out makes my world feel more silent than ever before.
Kor approaches me as the chaos continues to surround us. His demeanor is different than it was at the cottage. Whatever fate is doing to him, he’s hiding it now. And he’s hiding it well.
His features are hard and cold as he gives me an order like the prisoner I am. “Let’s tuck you in for the night, Ishara Doyle.” He glances over his shoulder. “Zy, make sure the path is clear.”
“With pleasure, brother,” Zyran replies, adjusting his glasses before he takes the lead with his bloody sword still in hand.
Zyran clears a path simply with his presence as we slowly make our way to the elevators.
They called this place an apartment complex, but it feels like an understatement.
They must be right, though. A hotel would have a reception desk, but I only noticed a sitting area out front with a bar. Most of the bodies were wearing suits—likely businessmen.
This is New York, home to the Supernatural Syndicates, so there is no telling what kind of criminal activity I’ve found myself in.
A base of operations to bring back the patriarchs,I decide as we enter the fanciest elevator at the end of the row.
My three fated mates crowd around me when we’re inside, and Zyran produces a card, then inserts it into the only available slot.
The elevator shoots up, making my stomach drop.
