Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
“You are wrong.” My uncle’s voice rang through the cold night air.
“You know your major fault, Istvan?” Andris kept his voice even though he slurred from a swollen jaw and cheekbone.
“What you think of as weaknesses are strengths. Love, friendship, and family. They are the reason to fight for all of this. The single true point of life. The rest is bullshit. You were always jealous of that.”
Istvan’s head dropped back, letting out a dark laugh. “Jealous of what? You?”
“Of what so many could feel, and you could not. You are incapable of love or empathy. For Rebeka, friends, even your own son. You are searching to fill the gap in your soul and coming up empty each time.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Markos sneered.
“You think power will satisfy you? You will finally feel fulfilled? That’s not how it works. You will find yourself up on your pedestal all alone, dead bodies and those you tossed away strewn around you, lonely and pathetic.”
“I. Said. Shut. Up!” Istvan marched up to Andris, shoving the barrel into his forehead, his finger about to pull the trigger.
A deep protective instinct lurched me forward, but Ling’s cry halted me. Ramming her shoulder into Andris, she knocked him out of the way, wiggling herself in front of him.
“Ling, no!” Urgency pitched his voice, terror in his eyes as he tried to move her out of the way, but she bared down, locking down her muscles, glaring up at Istvan. Her Kitsune powers sparked over her like a current. Istvan paused, his attention entirely on her.
“Ling, is it?” Istvan’s eyebrow rose. “So you are the one. The fae concubine.”
“She has nothing to do with this.” Andris shuffled on his knees, trying to get in front of her, the coolness he had earlier peeling away. “Your fight is with me.”
“Is it?” Istvan tilted his head, a malevolent grin tugging his mouth.
“The fae mistress you tried to keep hidden from me. Even willing to fake your own death, leave your career and your wife for?” Istvan looked at her with disgust. “If you never met her, would you still be killing them? Slaughtering them by the hundreds like you used to? Would you still be my war general? Was she really worth leaving it all for? This soulless creature who kills your own kind? You are a traitor, an abhorrent fae-lover.”
“She has more soul in a single strand of hair than you ever could understand. That was your problem, Istvan. You didn’t want to see they were like us.
You wanted them to be the things you claimed, so you felt justified in killing and going after what you wanted.
You are a thousand times worse than any fae you say is vile.
Benet and I saw what you were becoming. I would have gotten out eventually with or without her. ”
“Benet. Yes, another one who greatly disappointed me.” Istvan lowered his gun.
It was a minuscule moment. Andris released a breath, his lids closing with relief, thinking he defused the situation enough. That moment was all it took for him to miss the warning. The subtle shift when everything changed.
Istvan’s arm went back up in a blink.
Bang!
A scream tore from my stomach, cutting through my mouth.
Acid burned the back of my throat as I watched Ling’s body jolt, the bullet tearing through the spot between her eyes before her brain registered, and they glossed over.
Blood spurted everywhere, painting Caden’s face, who stood there, unmoving.
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Andris bellowed, lurching for her as her kneeling body crumbled to the ground.
“No! Ling! Please!” He grabbed for her, pulling her to him, her blood and brain matter covering him as he screamed.
The gut-wrenching sound pierced my spine and heart, filling me with grief and despair.
I tried to get to him, but his men held me back, my muscles sagging in anguish as my uncle’s wails impaled the night air with his deepest sorrow.
“Please, baby, wake up . . . please don’t leave me .
. . Ling, my love.” He rocked her on his lap, blood and tears mixing together as he bowed over the love of his life, dead in his arms.
“If one of you makes a move, you will be next.” Istvan threatened, waving around his pistol. “Or possibly the person you love the most.”
My shoulders bowed, my brain still not completely taking in what just happened. Andris’s pain was so guttural, I felt it slam into me.
Kovacs.
Again, it was more a sensation, a heavy gaze on me, calling me.
I didn’t contemplate anything more than following the instinct.
My eyes lifted to Warwick. Without saying a word or touching me, I could feel his strength.
Use me. Even without our link, he was giving me his strength, letting me absorb it from him so I could keep going.
Gritting my teeth, I held back my tears, looking at the woman who had saved me in Halálház, quiet and strong, a comrade when I had none. The woman who changed my uncle’s life, gave him so much happiness and peace—the woman who survived the House of Death—was now dead.
The sobs within Sarkis’ army, her friends, and family were heartbreaking, but watching my uncle shredded everything from me. He whispered to her, his wails like a wounded animal, while his eyes turned dead. Shutting down from the pure agony.
“Her death is your fault, Takacs, and your punishment for going against me.” Istvan gritted, wiping some of the blood off his face with a handkerchief. “I always win in the end. Always.”
My uncle didn’t react, though his cries quieted. His expression went blank, his stare off somewhere else, something irreconcilable curling under his skin. “You will pay for this.” His voice was cold and vengeful.
“Don’t sound so cliché, old friend.” Istvan tucked the bloody scarf back in his pocket.
“And I won’t. I have been planning far longer than you could even imagine.
Every situation, every player. I wasn’t expecting your identity, but the plan remained the same.
And even when you bombed Halálház, I adapted, and now I see you did me a favor. ”
“How?” Andris growled, not even sounding human.
“You will see shortly, friend.” Istvan smiled cruelly, his head lifting to the army. “Let’s move out. Secure all prisoners.”
The soldiers’ reactions were instant, turning and marching for the main street, except for those around us.
Caden still stood there, Ling’s blood over him like an abstract painting, his eyes on me.
“Caden, don’t stand there like an imbecile.” Istvan hissed quietly to him. “Why can’t you be a leader for once. Strong and resilient, not weak and pathetic.”
As a guard hauled me to my feet, I saw him flinch at his father’s harsh words. So many times, I had seen it happen. Caden would shut down, push me away, and storm off. Each time Istvan cracked at the sweet boy, it twisted Caden into something ugly, wanting desperately for his father’s approval.
“You want the nectar?” His eyes never left mine, but he spoke to Istvan.
“Excuse me?” Istvan turned around.
Oh gods, no.
“The nectar is real. I have it. I’m not going to get into all the hows, just that I do. It’s boxed up and safe right now.”
My words to my family in the cafeteria slammed back into me. My cockiness in thinking my friends would never spill the secret had me forgetting some of them weren’t anymore.
“Caden . . .” His name was barely above a whisper.
Please don’t do this. My eyes pleaded. For one blissful second, I thought he and I were still best friends, sharing bonds thicker than his duty.
Than even his blood. The kids who promised they would be best friends forever, never betraying the other. It was them over everyone else.
That day was long gone. The need to prove himself to his father overrode everything.
“I don’t have time for your nonsense.” Istvan sneered, about to turn away.
Anger built in Caden’s eyes, his shoulders rising. “Father! Stop!”
Istvan jerked around, his eyes wide with disbelief his son would be so demanding and insolent. “Don’t you ever—”
“Shut up,” Caden stated firmly, widening Istvan’s eyes more. “You want the nectar?”
Istvan’s mouth snapped shut, his expression shifting. “You know where it is?”
“It is in Budapest.” Caden held his father’s glare.
“Please,” I whispered to him.
“You fuckin’ spineless piece of shit! Think you’re so tough when all you want is to beg for your daddy to pat your head like a good boy.” Warwick thrashed against his captives behind me. Even with super soldiers, it took a dozen of them to keep him from attacking Caden.
Caden’s shoulders tightened, his head lifting higher, like he was trying to block out the truth of Warwick’s claim.
“Caden, don’t.” I tried again. “Please.”
“I will be taken seriously.” Caden cleared his throat. “Be your right-hand man from now on.”
“It’s all I ever wanted for you,” Istvan replied. “Now tell me where it is.”
“No, it doesn’t work like that.” Caden’s shoulders rolled back. I was prepared for him to point the finger at me. “I will find it. Bring it to you. This will be my mission to fully run.”
Wait . . . what?
Istvan slanted his head.
“I will be the one who retrieves it. No one else.”
Istvan’s eyebrows went up. For a moment, I thought he would strike Caden, punish him for his insolence.
“Of course, son,” he replied smoothly. “Find the nectar and bring it to me, and you will have a place right at my side. This is your chance to finally prove yourself to me. If not . . .” Istvan said before departing, disappearing into the darkness.
Tension twitched a nerve in Caden’s jaw. He shot me a look before he, too, walked away.
What the hell happened? Why didn’t he call me out? Say that I had it? Why did he protect me when this whole time he has claimed I was a traitor? That he hated me?