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“Don’t be angry, Zinnia,” she said. “You’ll understand soon enough. The Devil just made a bargain that’ll help me build something extraordinary. And when I’m done, you’re going to take my place.”

“I’ll never⁠—”

“You will. Because you’re a Vale, and Vales don’t run.” She stepped closer and reached for me. “Malachi’s going to help me bring them in. And one day you’re going to learn how to keep them.”

I jerked away from her touch and snapped my gaze back to Malachi. He was still sitting on the bed, still naked, still watching me with that unreadable expression.

Shoving past Evangeline, I walked out of the room.

Malachi followed.

I heard his footsteps behind me—bare feet on cold stone—and his voice calling my name, but I didn’t stop. The corridor stretched ahead, narrow and dim, and I kept moving toward the stables.

“Zinnia, wait⁠—”

“Don’t.” I didn’t turn around. “Don’t say another word.”

“You don’t understand⁠—”

“I understand perfectly.” My voice cracked, but I forced it steady. “You fucked my aunt for a money and a title. That’s all I need to know.”

He caught up to me at the top of the stairs, still naked, still unmarked by anything except the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. He reached for my arm, and I jerked away.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said.

“Then what was it like?” I turned on him, and the rage in my chest felt like it was going to split me open. “Tell me. Was any of it real?”

He hesitated.

Just for a second.

“Does it matter?” he said finally.

“Yes.”

“Then believe whatever helps you sleep at night.” His jaw tightened, and something cold slid into his expression. “You were always going to leave. I just made it easier for you.”

The words hit like a fist to the sternum.

I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re a goddamn fool and a coward, Malachi Rusk.” My throat burned and my hands shook. “Fuck. You.”

Turning, I kept walking.

He followed me down the stairs, through the back hall, out into the cold night air where the stables waited. I could hear him behind me, his breath coming faster now, his footsteps uneven on the gravel.

“Zinnia, stop⁠—”

“No.”

“Just listen to me⁠—”

I reached my horse and grabbed the saddle, pulling myself up. Malachi’s hand closed around my wrist, yanking me back down, and I stumbled into him. His other arm came around my waist, holding me against his chest.

“Let me go.”

“Not until you listen⁠—”

I pulled the knife from my belt and drove it into his stomach.