Page 170 of Roaring Flames

Travan?

Who the fuck is that?

And then unconsciousness pulls me under.

Epilogue

TRAVAN

Itake another drag of my cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stomping on it with my boot.

Well, well, well.

Things here have certainly gotten interesting.

I tilt my face upwards and let out a sigh. The sky above is riven with gray clouds that resemble clumps of cement. The sun has almost finished its descent entirely, though a few stubborn orange streaks cut through the darkness.

I take a deep breath—exactly as my therapist instructed me to do whenever I felt stabby—and let it out. In and out. In and out. When I finally have my emotions under control, I flick my gaze towards the unconscious vampire.

Grayson Grey.

I did my research on the little shit. Vampire assassin. Cold-blooded killer. Ruthless enemy.

My kind of man.

He’ll make a fine mate for my little girl. Yes, fine indeed.

At the thought of Izzy, my blood runs cold. This time, not even my breathing exercises can keep the rage at bay.

Those witch bitches took my daughter. I watched, unable to do anything, as they knocked her unconscious, levitated her into the air, and then disappeared through the throng of trees.

I couldn’t take on twenty-seven witches.

Well, I could’ve, but there was a good chance that Izzy would’ve gotten caught in the crossfire, and I wouldn’t allow that to happen.

My daughter.

My fucking daughter.

A giddy, euphoric feeling bubbles in my chest. I don’t quite know what it is.

Happiness, perhaps? Maybe. I can’t remember the last time I was happy.

Unless you count the time I dismembered that asshole down on Canal Street in New Orleans…

A smile tugs up my lips at the memory, but I immediately squash it.

Izzy looks so much like her mother.

As always, when I think of Helena, I feel a pang in my chest—I think this particular emotion is grief, but it has been muted with time and numbed by drugs, alcohol, and death. There’s a gaping chasm where my heart used to be, if I ever truly had one to begin with.

Fuck, I miss her.

Izzy’s the only thing left of her memory.

I remember when I first saw Helena, back when I was in college. She looked ethereal, her golden hair curling around her shoulders like a halo and her eyes glimmering with mirth. At the time, she was dating some fuckwad, but I can’t remember his name. Mike, maybe? I suppose it doesn’t matter. The second she saw me, it was over between them.

I introduced her to my packmates that very day, and that night, we…well…we didn’t conceive Izzy that night, but we certainly tried.

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