Page 160 of Fallen Court

Dante opened his mouth, but I shook my head. I didn’t care what he had to say. I didn’t care if he had been sired by Baptiste.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he muttered, backing away. He stared at Channing, tears filling his eyes as he repeated the excuse. “I didn’t have a choice.”

I held Channing closer. “There’s always a choice.”

But Baptiste clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I told you to kill him. Not put him to sleep.”

I gaped at her. Channing’s neck was broken, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. There was no coming back from that.

Unless…

A tiny flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Unless he was under some type of spell.

“He has my blood in his system,” Dante said, and the hope sputtered out, dashed by cold horror as I realized what he had done.

Anyone who died with vampire blood in their system…

Shaw clenched his fists, his face ashen. “You’ve made your point, Baptiste.” His eyes shuttered with a deep sigh. “What do you want?”

Broken. He was so very broken, and I hadn’t seen it.

I’d been so caught up in my own shit, too annoyed with Shaw for letting Channing hang out with a vampire, and too frustrated with Lach for bickering with his brother to notice. It had cost me the last piece of my old life. Something told me that it had taken more from Shaw.

But I couldn’t afford to feel sympathy, not now. Not with Channing growing cold on the floor and Ciara’s life hanging in the balance. Whatever mistakes Shaw had made, whatever misguided reasons had driven him to this point, he would never make this right.

His shoulders bowed like he knew it, too.

“Enough family drama. I’ll spare your sister. But we still have a ward to take down.” She turned her merciless gaze—and her gun—on me. “Let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

I stared into Baptiste’s cold eyes, a sickening realization settling in my gut.

She knew.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lach

My phone rang once, but I’d already tracked his arrival.

“He’s there. Are you sure?” But Willow’s words were like an echo. My decision was made. In life, in death, I would choose her.

I didn’t fear the Wild Hunt. I didn’t think through my options. I didn’t doubt my decision.

I snapped my fingers.

Scenarios flashed through my mind as I hurtled between worlds. Cate bound. Cate bleeding. Cate dead. I shook my head, banishing the gruesome images. We would get to her in time. There was no other option.

The world rushed to meet me, my knees popping as I slammed into the pavement outside The Fontaine. Tires squealed, the acrid scent of burned rubber assaulted me, but my eyes were on the door. A car door slammed behind me as I pulled out my 9-millimeter, and then Roark was at my side, his own weapon drawn.

“No guards.” He didn’t sound surprised.

It was practically an invitation—one Baptiste knew we would accept. No RSVP required.

I met his gaze, jaw clenched. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Neither do I.” He clapped one hand on my shoulder, something in his eyes telling me he understood more deeply than I’d expected. This was more than duty—to both of us. Walking in there probably meant our lives were forfeit. Walking away guaranteed they were.

Because my heart was inside that building.