Page 128 of Land of Monsters

“Then maybe I should employ them.” Her nose wrinkled. “I mean, whatuseare you to me?” Her threat was clear. “I dispose of things no longer useful to me.”

He nodded his head, heading down the steps.

“I want you to watch, Raven,” Sonya spoke, not even looking at me, her hand on her belly. “The weak will always be weeded out. Right or wrong, it is the law of nature. And you will be part of creating something even better. I have come too far, planned too long. Sat for decades on the sidelines, letting others rule me, others dictate. But now it’s all in my grasp, and I will not stop until I get what I want.”

My pulse beat louder in my ears; the screams of death and agony dragged like claws on my spine.

“You will help to create a new breed of fae.” She stared off at the battle below. “So powerful, no one can touch us.”

“Us?” I spat back.

“Yes.” Her attention cut back over to me. “You will produce their heirs until you are no longer of use.”

A woman’s scream came from below, chilling my veins. My stomach sank when I recognized the voice.

“NO!” Aunt Fionna cried, terror gripping every nuance.

The snake-man seized Piper by the neck, his venomous teeth at her throat, while Latin words flowed from her mother. The snake smiled at her, Druid magic not affecting him.

Sonya’s smile curved her face at seeing both my mother and aunt try to use their black magic against the monster, not understanding it was pointless. Unlike the mindless soldiers, these things were neither fae nor human, but their own species, which did not bow to any magic.

Making them more indestructible. Only by beheading did these things seem to die.

Piper stood strong, her chin high as if she was accepting her demise that she would go out with pride. Her stepfather’s daughter. A true princess, even if not by blood.

Agony muffled from me, my heart stuttering for my cousin. Wyatt might have splintered us, my heart and ego unable to withstand the pain of them together, but I never stopped loving her. She was my family, my idol growing up. And now, with Ash, I realized I was a fantasist in my thoughts about Wyatt. They always had a deep connection. Where ours was more friendship, theirs was an unfathomable love they tried to fight. And no matter how much I screamed, cried, and pushed her away, she was here, fighting for me.

Where was Wyatt? He never left her side.

“No,” I whined, withering in Iain’s grip as the snake flicked out his tongue, tasting its prey. His jaw opened wider, venom dripping from his fangs, his jaw about to clamp down.

“NOOOOO!” The scream rattled my soul, but it didn’t venture from my lips. The deep bellow broke across the air like a war cry as more people popped out of thin air. Two enormous men with blondish hair, white eyes, and battle-axes came charging in.

Wyatt, followed by his father Ryker, his mother Zoey, Croygen, his mate Kat, and their pirate crew.

The wanderers—Ryker, Wyatt, and Zoey, did not need fae doors to travel. Their magic was something so rare and valuable that they were the only three to have this type of power. As long as they could picture where they wanted to go, they could “jump” to locations, bringing at least one or two people with them.

Expression carved like stone, Wyatt, a furious, stoic Viking like his father, came barreling toward his mate, his axe swinging for the snake.

Their entry took focus for a moment. And a moment was all I needed.

Ramming my arms as hard as I could into Iain’s crotch, I slammed my head back, hearing the crack of his nose burst in my eardrums. He doubled over with a howl of pain. I pitched forward, breaking free of Iain’s hold, Sonya’s shouts a blanketed screech in my ears.

Iain scrambled for me, slamming us both to the ground, his body landing on mine.

Air caught in my throat, a warm sensation buzzing over me. I knew something was wrong.

Lowering my gaze, I took in the handle of the blade sticking out of my stomach, red liquid pooling out and warming me against the cold air.

I didn’t feel pain.

My eyes flickered to Ash, his focus slowly moving from the knife in my stomach to my face.

I expected to see sadness. A distant understanding that this was all over. We weren’t walking out of here alive. We would die here together.

No such acceptance came from him. His glossy eyes blazed with fever, one word falling from his lips as he looked at me.

“Mine.”

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