Page 144 of Fated In Blood

“Watch, Evangeline. This all could have been avoided if you’d only trusted me.” Malachi spoke so quietly his words were barely puffs of air.

My father and Alistair weren’t halfway to the door when the sound of a struggle preceded a bloodied Riordan being dragged into the room by five guards, followed by Collum nursing a nasty gash on his forehead. “We have the king, Master. Bosch is rounding up Marten and the girl. He should arrive presently.”

I grinned against Malachi’s palm.Fat chance, losers.

For the first time, I strained against Malachi, twisting my head, trying to see how to get out of here. I had to get downthere, had to do something. Free Riordan. Find Blake. Get my sister out of this fucking castle. Kill Tyrell.

Anything except hide up here and watch this tragedy unfold.

“But you couldn’t trust me, could you?” Malachi said sadly. “And now, unfortunately, the only plan is you.” Cold shivered through me, that odd, heavy sensation telling me he’d set another guard around my thoughts.

I wiggled out of his grip long enough to spit, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Something invisible wrapped around me, stronger than any rope, any chain, squeezing tighter and tighter until I couldn’t move a muscle. “I’m sorry, but this is the only way to salvage the situation. You should have taken my offer, Slayer. Whatever happens next is on you.”

One second, we were safely tucked in the nook, the next I was in front of the fireplace, bound up like a turkey in front of two of the most dangerous men I’d ever known, and Laurent Tyrell.

“My Lord.” Malachi swept into another of those stupid bows. “I located the slayer trying to flee the castle. No sign of Marten.”

I was going to kill this prick as soon as my hands were free.

Tyrell pushed up out of his chair, the very picture of triumph. “Thank you, my friend. I don’t believe you are acquainted with Silas Silverwood? His brother Alistair?”

“TheSilas Silverwood?” Malachi’s eyebrows shot up, one hand slapping dramatically over his heart and my urge to kill him increased by a million percent. “Only by reputation, never in the flesh. Have the girl’s kin come to claim her?”

My father preened at the flattery, even as his eyes landed on Malachi’s bare chest, right where a sharpened ash stake would deliver the death blow.

I didn’t know Malachi, and what little I did know I despised on principle, but something about him changed the moment he laid eyes on my father, and through the bond that imprisonedme ran a deep shudder of hatred, intense enough my entire body recoiled.

I managed to lift my eyes to Malachi’s face, and what I found there was so dark and devouring, the emotion so potent, it rattled me to the core.

Silas didn’t notice, dark eyes raking over me, cataloging every weakness as he came closer and caught my face in his fist, squeezing. “Claim her? We’re giving her away. She’ll become the next source of power for the Nocturne Clan, as long as they can keep her alive. Decades, centuries, perhaps. I’m sure Valaine will enjoy every minute.”

He was crushing my face, the pressure behind my eyes too much, too…

A menacing, animalistic roar filled the room, then Silas was gone, a blur of white and black shooting past me as I tried to get my eyes to focus.

Riordan landed on top of my father, ripping him to shreds with his bare hands, fingers carving grooves out of his skin with every blow. “Please…please…” Silas sobbed, begging—fucking begging—for mercy. Then Rohr froze, hands slowly rising over his head, powerful body trembling as he fought against Tyrell’s compulsion, Uncle Alistair pressing a gun to the back of his head.

“This is over,” Tyrell said quietly, gazing not at the bloody spectacle in front of us, but at Malachi. “You will break the blood bond tonight, and in the morning, I will publicly execute the false king and your reign will begin.” His head whipped to Collum. “Find Blake Marten. I want him in shackles within five minutes. Fail, and you will join them in the execution line.”

An ashen-faced Collum fled, taking the soldiers with him, a far less number than before.

My father crawled out from beneath Riordan, blood streaming from the wounds on his face, his perfectly pressedshirt soaked, shreds of skin hanging loose from where Riordan had clawed the flesh right off his face.Fuck, that was exactly what Valaine’s face looked like, only sewn back together.

Uncle Alistair, looking faintly horrified, gave Riordan a long, hard look before holstering his weapon and sidling away to a safe distance.

I hoped those wounds hurt. I hoped my father was suffering. I hoped…

“Come here, Silas.” Tyrell sank his fangs into his wrist as my father limped across the floor, one hand held over his face as if he was trying to piece himself back together.

Silas Silverwood dropped to his knees before Laurent Tyrell, took his wrist in both hands, and pressed his lips to the Ancient’s flesh, throat working as he drank, Tyrell’s other hand resting on my father’s head like an unholy benediction.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away, couldn’t stop the horror from curling through me. When my father climbed to his feet, there wasn’t a mark on him, a fact accentuated by the sly smile he gave me on his way past.

“Now it’syourturn to serve me.” Tyrell turned his serpentine gaze on Malachi. “Break the blood oath. I want this travesty over.”

“I will, of course, be more than happy to break the bond, my lord, but I do require a few items for the ritual.” Malachi released me from his magical bondage, and I collapsed to the floor. “If I may have a few moments to prepare, we can begin the process of ridding you of these”—his nose wrinkled—“problems.”

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