Page 41 of A Reign of Malice
She’s not giving up on me. Which means I can’t give up on her either.
I stare down at the blackened shackles cutting into my wrists, the skin long since rubbed raw. I’ve lost count of the years I’ve spent here, chained like a beast unworthy of sunlight, the magic embedded in the cables siphoning away what little power I have left.
A snarl rises in my throat, a guttural promise of violence.
When I’m free, I’m going to kill my brother. Slowly.
I’ll shatter his bones one by one, tear the crown from his head, and make sure every single wolf in Venaris knows exactly who and what their king is.
A traitor. A coward. A murderer.
But first, I need to survive.
Pain has long been a companion of mine, a dull ache that’s become part of me, but the weakness, the inability to keep my head up for long—that’s new. My wolf barely stirs anymore, his spirit dimming like a candle running out of wax. If he dies before I’m free…
There won’t be enough of me left to save.
But Sloane will come back.
She might not trust me yet, but she’s too smart to fall for Aeson’s lies. I saw that in the way she carried herself, in the way she spoke, even the way she tracked my every movement. It doesn’t matter that we’ve admitted to being mates, if she decides I’m the monster she assumed to be locked away here, she’ll end me.
That knowledge doesn’t scare me. I know the truth, and I’ll prove it to her.
If it takes a lifetime, I’ll show her exactly who I am, who I should’ve been. Not just her mate, but the rightful Alpha King.
The cave’s silence presses in around me, but I don’t surrender to it. Not anymore.
I sit back against the slick, cold stone, breathing slowly, imagining her face. The slight crease between her brows as she listened to me speak and the defiance in her eyes when she challenged me.
The memory of her will be enough to hold onto, but as I unwillingly drift off, I’m not sure my wolf is around to believe the same.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SLOANE
Aeson ignores me for the rest of dinner, but I can feel the storm building beneath his skin, his silence more ominous than any threat he could’ve made. Every second of the torturous meal is spent with him preening, desperate to present himself as a king worthy to sit alongside Asher and Theo. The effort is almost painful to watch. The too-wide smile, the unnatural pitch of his voice, as if he’s trying to sound relaxed and commanding all at once.
Asher and Theo humor him, polite nods and the occasional placating smile keeping the conversation from falling flat. But their civility is hollow, forced, and it’s the women—Estee and Isla—who give me hope.
They barely touch their meals, their focus never straying far from their mates. Watching, analyzing, reading every shift in the air the way seasoned warriors do when they’re waiting for an ambush. Sitting at that table, surrounded by two queens who see Aeson for exactly what he is, fills me with a rare sense of calm.
I’m not alone in this.
My fated mate is still trapped, his life slipping away with every hour that passes, and I’m expected to bind myself to Aeson in less than two days. But none of that worries me any longer, especially when I know I’m not the only one watching Aeson’s every move.
We stand together at the base of the grand staircase after dinner. Asher and Theo keep a protective hold on their mates, their hands firm yet tender. In contrast, Aeson’s grip on my hand is light, an afterthought. There’s no affection there, no pretense of care anymore. He’s angry, and I feel the thin veneer of control fracturing beneath his skin with every breath he takes.
It’s not the lack of affection that chills me. It’s the feeling that I’ve pushed him too far, that his careful mask is finally starting to slip.
He knows something is wrong.
He might not know about Julian yet, but the growing distance between us and my refusal to submit to his every whim has made him suspicious. And if Aeson feels like he’s losing control, there’s no telling how far he’ll go to get it back.
A fresh wave of nausea rolls through me, the kind that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with knowing that if Aeson ever discovers who Julian is to me, he’ll kill him just to spite me.
I can’t let that happen.
“I wish I could say we had something planned for you, Aeson,” Theo says, his voice low and easy, “but a boys’ night isn’t exactly our style.”
