Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
The news broke me.
I never let my brothers see. The mission of finding Samuel and bringing him to justice is what kept me together. Once I finished that mission, I was prepared to go to the ground again in an attempt to outrun the weight of losing her all over again.
It’s one thing to think she was living and thriving somewhere, but to have heard she died?
And yet, here she was, living and breathing right in front of me.
“That Talia did die in the sixteen hundreds,” she says, her voice breaking. “I can't do this with you. We don't belong to each other anymore...” Her voice trails off and it’s the tears lining her eyes that counter all her cold, emotionless words.
“This says otherwise,” I say, reaching for her wrist and flipping it over—
My mark...
My mating mark that grazed her skin...
It's gone.
“It faded centuries ago. Along with my feelings for you.” She snatches her wrist back, taking a calculated step away from me.
“Talia—”
“Zachariah.” Thorne rounds the corner, an urgency in his tone. He stops short, glancing between Talia and me.
I'm about to tell him to fuck off, but Talia steps into her room and shuts the door behind her.
I breathe out a sigh, at least grateful she hasn't fled the residence.
I walk toward Thorne, eyebrows raised.
“We found ID on a couple of them,” he says, handing me a small piece of paper.
I read the names, shock running through me. “These were on the list of half-bloods that Mrs. Zorin turned over to us,” I say before pocketing the paper. “We need to find Alek. Conclave should be called.”
I spare a glance back at the room that Talia is now in, every instinct shouting at me to stay.
Fuck the mission, fuck Conclave, fuck honor.
I want to stay.
But she shut the door for a reason, and as much as I want her to listen to me, to reconnect with me, I can’t kick down that door and make her.
So instead, I follow Thorne through the residence, tracking down everyone we need to, operating on pure autopilot.
My thoughts consumed with one crystal-clear fact.
My mate is in the residence, and she absolutely hates me.
I stride down the pathway with Alek, pushing open the heavy double doors to the Conclave Chamber and only allow him to enter after I've done a quick scan of the space. Four of the high-back chairs are already occupied, leaving the fifth empty and awaiting Alek.
Xavier sits so casually in his throne-like chair, draped in all black, one ankle casually resting upon a knee as he fiddles with something in his right hand—a silver coin that holds all his attention. It doesn’t matter how many Conclaves I’ve attended since I awoke, the sight of the demon king is always unnerving.
Another chair is occupied by the witch queen, Luna, Jocelyn’s sister, who is much more reasonable and amiable than Xavier. Another is occupied by the President of the Human Consortium, and in the last chair sits the new lycan king, Fenrir.
It’s all I can do to not curl my lip at him. I almost died in his territory, if not for Talia…
No, it’s my own fault. My distraction, my lack of will to use all my powers at once.
“You've had a year to get your shit together, Fenrir,” Alek opens up the discussion as he takes his seat, myself falling behind him. “You’d think you’d know if your lands were riddled with bloodmad vampires.”
“Or are you simply inviting them in?” Xavier asks in a smooth tone, never once taking his eyes off the silver coin he's now rolling over the back of each finger.
“The fuck I am,” Fenrir snaps at the demon king, and Xavier stops playing with the coin, drawing his gaze slowly to the lycan.
The beast has enough sense to visibly swallow and avert his eyes.
The demon king returns to playing with his coin.
“I'm not,” Fenrir says in a much more civilized tone. “I had no clue. But I’ll send extra packs out on patrol after dark to ensure it doesn't happen again.”
Alek nods, turning his gaze to the President of the Human Consortium. “And you?” he asks, his tone much softer to the human. “Do we have any new leads regarding Kyle Moorehouse? He's been on the loose far too long for my liking.”
The name draws up a memory from when we were briefed on all happenings regarding the current war after our awakening. He's the brother of Valor, Lachlan’s human mate, and he used to run one of the main divisions of the Sons of Honor. That was before Valor and the king's mate and some of the others infiltrated their headquarters, saving Valor’s cousin Daphne from a forced marriage and sending Kyle on the run.
“There have been no traces of him, your Highness,” the human answers. “We believe the blow his sister delivered has him in hiding, if not reorganizing.”