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My fingers were just centimeters from his shoulder when he suddenly veered, skidding to the side and cutting down a sharp alley. I growled in frustration, my boots pounding after him into another narrow stretch shrouded in even deeper shadow, darker than the night itself. When he reached the end of the street, he slipped inside a building with its doors swinging wide open. Red light pulsed onto the snowy boulevard, casting a crimson glow across the ground like blood spilled on ice.

The thrum of live drums and guitars, the rhythm frantic, matched by a singer’s whimsical, almost unhinged voice, weaving through the soundscape. The very air around the place buzzed with life, as if the building itself had a heartbeat.

Then it hit me, the scent.

That sickly, burnt cedar stench bloomed thick in the air, far stronger now. I remembered Arianna’s words. She’d said at least twenty Elguto shared this scent. His smell didn’t just linger; it blended perfectly with the rot hanging in the atmosphere.

I slowed my pace. If this wasn’t a peaceful gathering of kin… then it had to be an army. There was no in-between. And these Elguto? They were wild in their newborn years, and even more feral as adults if they hadn’t been broken, beaten, or claimed. Just like disobedient children, discipline had to be taught. And from the feel of it, most of these bastards had no home training.

Footsteps crunched in the snow behind me, pulling my attention from the doorway. Arianna and Martha had been following my chase across the city, and they finally drew close enough to make their presence known. Martha placed a hand gently on my shoulder, her fingers rubbing a slow, soothing circle.

“That wasn’t right,” she said softly, voice tinged with guilt. “I’m so sorry you were spit on. That never should’ve happened.” Her attempt to comfort me only fanned the embers of my fury. The burn of that moment still sizzled beneath my skin. For a fleeting second, I considered barging into that lounge and tearing through every soul until I found him. But logic anchored me, I knew better. If that room held a tangle of his kin, I’d be outnumbered before I could get a second breath in.

Swallowing my rage down, I smiled bitterly. “Don’t be sorry, Martha. I’m going to kill him.” I laughed then, wild and certain. The moment his spit touched my face… his death warrant was signed.

“Look who’s feeling sadistic tonight,” Arianna said with amusement, clasping her hands together. “Come on, let’s get inside.” She strode past me and Martha with her usual effortless glide, the snow parting beneath her steps like it feared to cling. The pulsing red lights bathed her figure, casting long shadows and soft glows across her dark skin. The light didn’t just land on her; it soaked in, illuminating her with a warm, amber radiance that made her look almost celestial.

Martha and I followed close behind, matching her stride as best we could.

The moment we stepped inside, my senses were assaulted. The music, louder now, pounded through, sending a high-pitched ring through my skull. The air was thick with faloree smoke, soft pink plumes twisting around the red pulses of light until everything felt like it bled together. Then came the smell. Stale blood. Smoldering bark. The foul stench of woodland ash baked into skin. It clung to everything, sank into fabric, hair, breath. It twisted through the building like a ghost, making it impossible to ignore.

Bodies writhed across the dance floor in suffocating numbers, hips grinding, fangs flashing, limbs moving like one singular beast. And in that mass of chaos… It became that much harder to find my target.

As we weaved through the mass of writhing bodies, we stayed close, chest to back, with Martha sandwiched between us. My eyes darted across the crowd, scanning faces through flashes of red and pink light, trying to single out my prey.

Then I saw him. Tucked in the far corner of the lounge, half-submerged in shadow, sat a familiar figure. Dark brown hair to the ear. Deep-set brown eyes. That same pitiful, lurking posture I remembered too well.

Mark.

He wasn’t alone. Mark had been seated beside the man from the market, the bastard who tried to violate Martha, and a blond male I didn’t recognize. He had better have the justification of a lifetime for sitting beside that filth. Unforgivable acts, each one worthy of execution. And if Mark sat among them in alliance… Then he wasn’t a victim anymore. He was a traitor.

I didn’t want to blame him. But the fire… and now this? How many transgressions did he think he could commit? How many missteps before they tipped the scale past redemption? Leaning in, I tapped Martha on the shoulder, pressing my lips to her ear. “I think I found your dear husband. And my victim.” I flicked my gaze in their direction, letting her follow the thread of my fury.

As if on cue, his eyes met mine.

Then they flicked to Martha. To Arianna beside me. There was a flicker of panic that sparkled in his pupils. I could see the thought pass behind his eyes as he calculated to get to the exit.

Coward.

I wouldn’t have put it past Mark to run. He’d done it once before, in the clearing, when things got real. Fleeing must’ve been his nature. Such a weak response from a man. Arianna was already moving, her body gliding through the crowd toward the door, swift and silent like a shadow. She’d be there before he could even stand. Panic was leaked from his pores thrumming from across the lounge. He was cornered and he knew it.

My gaze fell on Martha. She met my stare, and without exchanging a single word, we moved in perfect sync. The two of us approached the table, cutting off his escape, locking Mark and his little entourage into the corner.

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you again,” I said coolly, eyes fixed on the man from the shop.

Martha, with quiet grace, slid onto Mark’s lap, her weight like iron pressing him into the seat. He was trapped. Caged between us.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said the blond man, rising from his seat. “It’s not often the crown graces us with their presence in these slums.” His voice was calm, too calm. Measured like every syllable had been practiced. And with each one, my body prickled with unease, an instinctual distrust winding through my bones.

I offered a cool, practiced smile. “The pleasure,” I said, voice smooth as glass, “is not mine. It could’ve been, if your friend here hadn’t spit in my face and threatened my bonded with the limp weapon of his feeble masculinity.” I stepped forward slowly, letting my words settle like ash. “He’s the reason your people are still crawling in the dirt of savagery.” My tone was calm, chilling, even, but I could feel the rage uncoiling inside me like a beast. I didn’t have to use my powers once on this journey. But if they wanted to tempt me to games then I would show them exactly what it meant to gamble with the crown’s wrath.

Everyone seated at the table flinched at my words, their eyes sparking with silent fury. Even Mark, though he was still pinned beneath the weight of his wife. I noticed. I hoped he didn’t dare to think I missed it. “That’s no way to talk to the people who live in this city,” the blond said sharply, his gaze crawling over me with a sneer. “And what’s the hand of the King’s daughter doing in Ameega?” he added, voice laced with disdain and a sinister chuckle.

I met his eyes without blinking. “I’m here to reclaim my property. Mark—” I motioned to the man still beneath Martha, “—and whoever this is,” I said, pointing to the brunette.

“Property?” he echoed, a glint of challenge flashing in his eyes.

“Yes. Property. Ownership. Do you know the word? Or are you still too lost in a poor man’s fable to comprehend it?” I spoke flatly, letting the insult sink in like cold steel. “As soon as this man laid a hand on me, it became an act of treason. And he will be dealt with accordingly, by me.”