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"And you used Gideon to make Darius into a weapon against witches, knowing he'd eventually cross paths with me." Rage consumes my voice, fueled by the memory of discovering Gideon's betrayal in the council files and watching the truth hollow out Darius from within. But hearing Malachai narrate the true scale of it like a bedtime story makes me want to rip his tongue from his skull. "Your goal went beyond mere power. You wanted him broken and bitter to fuel your god."

"A guardian who already hated your kind being assigned to protect the most powerful lunar witch alive presented an exquisite irony." Malachai's eyes cloud as the entity's influence strengthens. "Though I must admit, his emotional attachment to you was an unexpected complication. Love makes such inconvenient variables."

Every syllable feeds the presence clawing at the walls of my mind, revealing decades of preparation and centuries of patience culminating in this moment.

"You sick bastards." I yank against the chains hard enough to draw blood from my wrists. "You turned the entire paranormal world into your feeding ground."

"And now the feast reaches its crescendo."

Malachai raises the obsidian blade above my heart, the ceremonial weapon catching the moon's crimson light. The entity writhes inside my consciousness, growing stronger with each drop of my blood that hits the ancient stone.

"I offer this final cut," he breathes, eyes reflecting nothing human. "The Vessel opens completely, and our master walks free after centuries of imprisonment."

The blade begins its descent, aimed directly at the section between my ribs where my heart pounds against my chest.

Then Darius fills the archway like a storm given flesh.

He steps through the entrance with both blades at the ready, his gaze blazing like that of a molten, lupine beast. Tactical gear hangs torn from fighting his way through the stronghold. Blood streaks his face from fresh cuts, but he fixes me in his sights, his gaze piercing like a laser.

"Get away from her."

His voice undertows a rumble of barely contained violence, each word promising brutal retribution. Three coven guards rush him from the shadows, but Darius moves effortlessly, like a predator among prey, making them look like children playing at war.

The first guard swings an argent-edged sword. Darius catches the blade bare-handed, his enhanced healing already closing the cuts as he drives his fist through the man's sternum. The second guard manages a single step before Darius's boot connects with his knee, the sickening crack echoing off stone walls.

"Darius, it’s a trap! They wanted you here!" I shout, relief and terror warring in my chest.

The third guard launches himself at Darius's back, but Darius spins like an animal, catching the attacker by the throat and slamming him into the cavern wall hard enough to leave a crater in the stone.

Malachai pauses mid-ritual, the obsidian blade hovering inches from my heart as his thin lips curve into a delighted, sadistic smile.

"Oh, what joy," he purrs, eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. He slowly lowers the blade, his attention shifting entirely to the wolf in the archway. "I was going to finish this now, but why rush perfection? The entity can wait a few more minutes. I want you to watch him die first, little Vessel. I want your heartbreak to be the final course."

The cult leader raises his free hand, fingers dancing through complex gestures that make the air shimmer with dark magic. "Seize him. Tear him apart slowly."

Shadows pour from the chamber's hidden alcoves, exhibiting hundreds of coven followers—an entire underground army that has been waiting in concealment. They bound forward in endless waves, chains and binding spells crackling between their fingers as they surround Darius in a rapidly shrinking circle.

"Really?" Darius flexes his shoulders, his focus calculated as he evaluates each threat. "This is your master plan? Throw more bodies at the problem until something sticks?"

"Your arrogance will make excellent seasoning for your suffering. Hold him so he can watch as his precious witch becomes our master's vessel."

The entity is stronger in my mind, feeding on the chaos and violence erupting around us. It demands more blood and more pain, sensing the barriers weaken with every drop spilled.

"Darius, run!" I scream as argent nets fly toward him from multiple directions. "Get everyone out. This isn't worth⁠—"

"Like hell I'm leaving you."

I left that trail knowing he'd follow it, counting on it and building my entire plan around the certainty that Darius Morvane would walk through fire to reach me.

But knowing it and watching it are two very different things. Nets tangle around his arms, coven members swarm from every shadow, and he tears through all of it with a savagery that makes the chamber walls tremble. Blood runs from fresh wounds he doesn't even flinch at, and his burning eyes find mine across the carnage like I'm the only fixed point in the universe.

30

DARIUS

The chamber erupts into chaos as Kellan's war cry echoes from the tunnel entrance. My backup crashes through the stronghold, a supernatural hurricane of destruction. Lynn blurs between coven guards with her crossbow while Nolan commands the center, unleashing devastating fire from a magically enhanced weapon. A dozen rogue shifters tear through the remaining cultists with claws and fangs.

"About time you showed up," I snap a net with my bare hands, ignoring the searing burn the metal leaves across my palms.