Page 129 of Dark Night of the Soul

Kincade’s jaw tightened. “Good.”

I opened my eyes. Looked up at him.

“That place can’t stand,” I said.

His gaze dropped to mine—no hesitation. No doubt.

“It won’t,” he said.

Silas exhaled softly on the other end of the line. “Then we’re past containment,” he said. “This becomes war.”

Kincade didn’t argue. Neither did I.

Chapter 37 | Kincade

I ended the call and dropped the phone to my side. The world faded back into existence. In the distance, the hum of the city returned through the open balcony doors.

She didn’t move, didn’t speak. But she was shaking. From rage, or terror, or both. Her face was pale, the scar on her left cheek standing out. The scar they’d given her when they tried to break her.

War.

The word settled into place with a terrible rightness. Munich was now a destination. And it was going to be leveled.

Not for revenge. Not even for justice.

Because as long as that infrastructure existed, as long as those feeds could be replayed, she would never be free.

And I would destroy the world before I let that stand.

I stayed where I was, standing between her and the open door.

Not to cage her in. Not to stop her from leaving.

It was instinct. Ancient and bone deep. The same way I’d positioned myself on battlefields. Always between the threat and what mattered most.

Even when the threat was invisible. Even when it had already struck.

Eight to nine months. Every moment recorded, examined, documented.

I’d survived centuries of war, betrayals, and sieges. I’d watched cities burn. I’d watched empires collapse under the weight of their own arrogance.

But the idea of someone sitting in a room—safe, distant, clinical—watching her live her life? Listening to her breathe when she thought she was alone?

It wasn’t enough they tried to destroy her, to make her something she wasn’t. Now they’d stripped away the one place she thought she was safest.

And they would pay for every breach.

“They were watching,” she said. “They were planning.”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t about you returning to the Brotherhood. It was about destroying lives.” Her voice shook. “It was about destroying our lives.”

I glanced down at her, to gauge her emotions. But she wasn’t about to break. She was furious.

“And Vormund knew,” she added.

“He did.”