Page 130 of Owned

“Who moves against me?” he hissed.

With each word, the air grew colder, suffocating. I exchanged glances with Valen and Bastian, both of their expressions etched with both horror and resignation. We couldn’t do anything. This was Lucian’s domain.

Lucian extended his long fingers, blackened and stained from countless dark rituals, and summoned tendrils of red smoke from the orb that hovered beside him. They wrapped around him like serpents, breaking through the pale orange magic of his assistant.

They constricted around the old man in an agonizing grip.

The headmaster’s eyes bulged in terror, and a strangled cry escaped his lips that echoed off the high bookshelves.

“Please!” he gasped. “I cannot help you. I did not take her!”

Lucian’s pale eyes narrowed. “The Black Council looks to you for guidance—they wouldn’t act without your approval.”

He stepped closer and laid his fingertips against the old man’s sweat-slicked cheek. “Tell me, headmaster. How long have you been plotting against me?”

“I haven’t,” the old man choked out.

“I don’t believe you,” Lucian said casually.

With a flick of his wrist, Lucian unleashed a surge of magic, and a thick column of red smoke, sharpened at one end like a harpoon, streaked from the red orb into the headmaster’s chest.

The scream that erupted from the headmaster filled the study and wrapped around my senses like a noose.

The old man’s body bucked and writhed against the unrelenting force of Lucian’s cruelty and blood dripped onto the floor as the spear of magic pushed slowly into the headmaster’s chest and then burst through his back.

Gore dripped from the smokey barb and splashed onto the flagstones.

It was a horrific spectacle, yet I found myself rooted to the spot, unable to look away.

“Where is she?” Lucian pressed.

The shadows writhed, and the headmaster’s cries grew hoarse— Raw and jagged.

Pitiful.

The headmaster’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, but the other captive suddenly seemed to find his voice.

“Please! He wasn’t involved!” the man begged.

Lucian’s focus turned to him, and he began to jabber. “I swear it! You have to believe me!”

“Believeyou?” Lucian echoed, his tone dripping with mockery. “Why would I waste suchluxuryon a pathetic worm likeyou?” He twisted his fingers, and the red smoke responded with a vicious snap as it dissipated.

The headmaster’s body fell to the ground with a sickening thud and he lay in the puddle of his own bodily fluids.

Shuddering as the last pulses of his dying magic sparked through him.

Bastian shifted beside me, his fists clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles white. I could feel the heat of his frustration, but I couldn’t decide if he wanted to jump in and finish the job himself, or interrupt our father in his pursuit of justice.

“Will you speak for the dead?” Lucian asked. His voice was deceptively calm, as if he were merely discussing the weather rather than orchestrating a carnival of agony. He leaned closer, and the man turned his face away—Lucian’s icy eyes glittered. A predator savoring the scent of fear.

“Please... I can help you find her… Just stop!” The old man’s voice trembled as he broke into sobs that filled the air.

A part of me recoiled at the sight, even knowing the depths of the treachery that had been conducted under our father’s nose.

“Help?” Lucian spat the word, leaning in until his face was inches from his captive. “What use is your help when it is already tainted with lies?”

He paused, allowing the man’s sobs to fill the air.

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