Page 18 of Owned

A shift came over the room as unease rippled through the Necromi ranks. I noticed furtive glances exchanged between them, saw their confidence waver in the wake of Lucian’s declaration. Their subtle shifts and fidgeting hands betrayed a lack of the boldness they pretended to possess.

I moved forward, and my brothers mirrored my purposeful strides as we took our places near Lucian’s side. In a fleeting moment, I caught a flicker of something unreadable in Valen’s eyes—a spark of doubt that he quickly concealed. Bastian’s lips curled ever so slightly into a sardonic smile.

There was no other direction needed.

My brothers and I moved as one as we lunged toward the cloaked figures. The Necromi shrank back, their cloaks whispering against the cold stone floor. Then I saw him—the first victim—his face was a twisted mask of terror. He stood alone, trembling amidst a sea of shadows, and his eyes darted around the room like those of a cornered animal.

Valen reached him first, his grip ironclad as he dragged the traitor toward me. The man’s protests came out as nothing more than strangled whimpers, lost under the echo of our footsteps.Bastian fell in beside us, his expression filled with cruel amusement as he watched the spectacle unfold.

When the traitor stumbled, I seized him by the collar and hauled him upright with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs. He sagged against me and his fear was a tangible stench that clung to my skin.

“Here, father,” I grunted as I brought him toward Lucian and flung him down on the uneven stone floor.

The man let out a pathetic cry as he sprawled on the stones. “I—I am guilty,” he stammered and his voice cracked like brittle glass. “But please, I beg you—”

That was fast.

Lucian’s eyebrow rose slightly.

Was he surprised by the swiftness of the confession, too?

“Name your collaborators,” Lucian commanded. “Confess, and your end will be swift.”

The traitor’s eyes widened, wild with desperation, as he stared up at Lucian. His gaze flickered around the assembly, then fixed back on me, as if searching for a shred of mercy in a place where none existed. Valen stepped forward and took hold of the man’s hair, pulling his head back.

“Speak,” he growled, and the man whimpered.

Valen’s grip tightened, and the man gasped as his resolve crumbled like ash.

“I—I cannot,” he choked out. “You don’t understand—”

Lucian’s expression remained one of detached indifference, like a god surveying the suffering of mortals. He waved his fingers in a gesture that we were all familiar with. We were to extract the truth by any means necessary.

Bastian chuckled and drew a dagger from the sheath at his hip. They all feared our magic, but magic could be countered—but this blade? This blade was different. It glinted with lethal promise as Bastian stepped closer.

When he caught sight of the blade, then the traitor writhed against Valen’s grip. His hands glowed with a deep blue-toned magic and Valen grunted as the man gripped Valen’s wrists.

“Hold him steady,” Bastian said with irritation, but as he brought the blade closer, the desperate man reached out and snatched the knife from Bastian’s hand.

“Hey!”

Without hesitation, the man brought the dagger to his own throat and, as one of the nearby Necromi screamed, he plunged it deep into his flesh. Blood arced through the air in a dark crimson spray that stained the stone floor and painted my skin with its warmth.

Chaos erupted around us.

Shouts and screams fill the air as Valen lets out a disgusted cry and releases his hold on the corpse. It fell onto the stones with a sickening thud and I stood frozen as the dead man’s lifeblood pooled at my feet.

The scene unfolds in agonizing slow motion as the world narrows to the ragged sound of my breathing and the metallic tang of blood that hangs in the air.

Lucian watched it all with unnerving calm, his eyes half-lidded in contemplation.

Valen wiped his face with the back of his hand and a smear of blood traced the line of his jaw. He met my gaze, and for a fleeting moment, I caught a glimmer of disbelief in his eyes. Bastian crouched beside the body and pried his dagger from the dead man’s hand. His mouth twisted in a way that could have been a smile or a grimace, but from this angle, I couldn’t be sure.

The thunder of sound and movement overwhelmed the chamber as the Necromi moved uneasily, trying to process the implications of what they’d just witnessed. Some fought to get closer to the exits, while others held them back.

No one wanted to be singled out or implicated.

No one wanted to be next.

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