Page 222 of Owned

Lucian lurched to his feet, his face contorted with fury. “You’re dead. I watched you die!”

Sweat glistened on Lucian’s brow and his face twisted in anger and disbelief. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with rage beneath the black stains that mottled his skin.

“You watched my body die,” my father retorted. “But souls are harder to destroy— The grimoire saved me. Preserved my essence. For years I’ve watched and waited—”

“Impossible,” Lucian choked out.

“Souls cannot rest when there’s unfinished business.” He laughed, a sound so foreign coming from my lips that it sent chills down my spine. “And you, old friend, are my unfinished business.”

The red orb that had floated so passively nearby glowed brightly, and my hands tightened into fists as Lucian’s magic surged. A wave of crimson-tinged darkness crashed against us with enough force to shake the bed. I felt my father’s presence flare in response, channeling power through my body that I hadn’t known I possessed.

“You think you can challenge me?” Lucian growled as he raised his blackened hands. The stains seemed to writhe across his skin, extending further up his arms and across his chest like dark veins. “In thatweakvessel? Withborrowedpower?”

“I don’t think,” my father replied calmly. “I know.”

Power exploded between us. Lucian’s magic collided with whatever force my father commanded through me. The impact sent reverberations through the room. Candles exploded into showers of hot wax, and a mirror shattered and crashed to the stone floor.

I felt my consciousness being pushed back, deeper into the recesses of my mind, as my father prepared for battle. But before I was completely submerged, I heard his voice, urgent and commanding.

“Reach for the dagger, Avril. When I give you control, strike without hesitation.”

Magic tore through the room like a storm of broken glass. My body moved with a fluidity I’d never possessed as my father wielded my limbs with the precision of a seasoned warrior.

Lucian’s power lashed out in violent bursts of crimson smoke, but there was something erratic in his movements now, a slight tremor in his hands that hadn’t been there before. Valen’s poison was working, corroding Lucian’s control from the inside out, and my father pressed our advantage without mercy.

“You should be more careful about what you drink at celebrations, Lucian,” my father taunted through my lips. “Your sons have more initiative than you give them credit for.”

Lucian let out a strangled cry as he unleashed another torrent of magic that my father deflected with a swift gesture of my hand. The force of it rattled the windows and sent the remaining candles guttering as their unnatural flames danced wildly in the disturbed air.

“Poison?” Lucian spat, his pale eyes narrowing. “You think somepatheticconcoction can weaken me?”

But even as he spoke, I could see the evidence of his deterioration.

The black stains on his hands seemed to twist erratically, no longer flowing with smooth purpose but jerking and twitching beneath his skin. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“I think it already has,” my father replied, and my lips curved into a cruel smile that wasn’t mine.

Lucian lunged forward with surprising speed, and his magic coalesced into a physical blow that caught us in the stomach. Pain exploded through my body as we crashed against the wall, and I felt my father’s control waver momentarily.

This was still my flesh taking these hits, my bones absorbing these impacts, and the agony threatened to overwhelm us both.

“You forget your place, Dario,” Lucian growled, advancing on us. “You werealwayssecond best. Always thefollower, never the leader. Always craving whatdidn’tbelong to you.”

My father channeled my pain into power and drew on reserves of magic I hadn’t known I possessed. My hands flew up, fingers twisting in complex patterns, and the air between us solidified into a barrier of pale violet smoke that repelled Lucian’s next attack.

“And you forget whom you’re dealing with,” my father retorted. “I wasneveryour follower. I was biding my time.”

The magic that flowed through me was unlike anything I’d experienced before—dark and potent, ancient in its resonance. It felt like the grimoire’s essence had been transfused directly into my veins and transformed my gentle, hesitant magic into something primal and untamed.

My body burned with the effort of containing it, muscles straining against the onslaught of power. I could feel my lipscracking from the heat, and tasted blood on my tongue as capillaries burst beneath the pressure.

How much of this could my physical form endure?

A whimper escaped my lips as another wave of magic crashed against me.

“Patience,” my father whispered to me alone. “Just a little longer.”

Lucian gathered himself for another attack, but this time, his movements were unmistakably sluggish. The poison was spreading, its effects deepening with each passing minute.

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