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And that’s when I hear it.
Something shifts beneath Thessaly’s words.
I almost miss it.
She keeps talking about Malgrave, about the deal they’ve made and everything she stands to gain from handing me over, but the longer I listen, the harder that feeling claws at me.
I know this sound.
My attention sharpens on her.
It’s faint, buried so deep beneath her own power that I doubt she can feel it, but I fucking can.
The same pull I felt inside Carnage.
No fucking way.
I reach for it carefully, listening past Thessaly’s voice while she keeps talking, completely unaware that I’m no longer paying attention to what she’s saying.
That same ancient presence.
Not inside her the way I heard it inside Carnage, but close enough to whatever deal she’s made with Malgrave, I can feel it pushing at the edges.
Thessaly thinks she’s in control.
She thinks she made a deal with Malgrave, that she finally found the leverage she needed to drag me back to the Conclave and take the voice they have wanted since I was a kid.
But the more she talks, the more I hear underneath it.
That same fucking pull.
Faint this time, buried beneath Thessaly’s own power, but it’s there. Nudging and pushing. Making her believe every choice she’s making belongs to her.
The Devil is using her too.
Malgrave was never the only one.
Thessaly has spent twelve years hunting me, and whatever deal she thinks she made has given her exactly what she’s always wanted.
Me, cornered.
Three days to surrender.
The full weight of the Conclave is behind her if I refuse.
“Three days,” Thessaly says again, turning back to Malgrave. “After that, I retrieve her myself.”
Malgrave’s black eyes settle on her. “You will bring her alive.”
Thessaly’s mouth tightens. “The Conclave authorized lethal force.”
“I am aware.”
“Then you understand I won’t risk my enforcers because you’ve suddenly developed a preference for mercy.”
Something moves across Malgrave’s face—not amusement, something far worse.
“Mercy has nothing to do with it.”
