Chapter 32
The estate was dark when they returned. Not quiet—House Virellien never truly slept—but the lights had dimmed, the hallways emptied of the usual bustle. It should have been a relief.
Instead, Riven could still feel Thane’s come drying on his tongue.
He hadn’t even hesitated. That was the worst part. One cock out and a sharp command and he’d been down on his knees like he was starving for it.
Which he was.
And that was exactly the problem.
He ran a hand through his hair as they passed the foyer, already mentally kicking himself. You’re not supposed to want this. You’re not supposed to want him.
The Matriarch was waiting.
Or rather, waiting for Thane. They were barely halfway to the upper floor when a messenger intercepted them—slim elf in a pressed suit, eyes flicking to Riven like he was a smudge on glass.
“Lord Thane,” he said crisply, “the Matriarch wants your report. She says to come directly. Alone.”
Thane’s jaw flexed. “Did she say why?”
“No.”Thane looked like he wanted to argue—but didn’t. His gaze flicked to Riven. “Stay here.”
Riven gave him a mock salute. “Gladly.”
Thane lingered one more beat, then turned and stalked off, coat sweeping behind him like a stormcloud.
Riven watched him go. The heavy Virellien doors closed behind Thane with an audible thud.
Finally. A breath of peace.
It lasted all of twenty seconds.
“Riiiivennnnn,” came a too-familiar voice. “Is it true you got to meet our dear Lord Sorrell?”
Riven groaned. “Don’t you two have better things to do?”
Cassian and Luca flanked him like wolves. Luca looked fresh from a shower, curls damp and defined, a towel still slung around his neck. Cassian wore all black, as usual, his gold eyes glinting with mischief.
“We’re very invested in diplomatic affairs,” Cassian said solemnly, “especially when they involve magically erect strippers.”
Luca grinned. “Did you get a turn? Or was it strictly Sorrell’s show?”
Riven rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite hide the heat that flushed his face. “He ordered entertainment. Thane was not thrilled.”
“I bet he wasn’t,” Luca muttered. “So? What did he do, grit his teeth while Sorrell got railed six feet away?”
“Basically.”
Cassian arched a brow. “And you? Were you a good little envoy, or did you enjoy the view?”
“Drop it,” Riven said, a little too fast.
They didn’t push. To their credit, neither of them usually did when he truly shut down. But the air shifted as the conversation slipped into something heavier.
He leaned back against the hallway wall, crossing his arms. “Do either of you know anything about the Hollow Hand?”
Cassian blinked. “That’s a sharp pivot.”
“Yeah, well. I’m curious.”
The twins exchanged a look.
“I mean, not much,” Luca admitted. “It was before our time. Long before we were working with the family. Just stories.”
Riven frowned. “Nothing useful?”
Cassian shrugged. “We know what most people know. The Hollow Hand were Houseless, renegade, ruthless. Specialized in Great House hits. For a while, they were terrifyingly effective.”
“They killed a few Matriarchs,” Luca said quietly.
Cassian nodded. “And a few others. Including Thane’s father.”
That made Riven look up. “What?”
“You didn’t know?” Luca asked, brows raised. “It’s kind of how all this started.”
Cassian leaned on the wall next to Riven. “Thane’s father was the Virellien heir. People said Thane used to follow him like a shadow. He was maybe seventeen, eighteen when the Hollow Hand made their move.”
“Targeted the Matriarch,” Luca supplied. “Got him instead.”
The hallway was too quiet. Riven couldn’t breathe.
“Thane lost it after that,” Cassian went on, voice lower now. “Signed up for every mission. Took the ones no one wanted, the ones where no one came back. He made it his whole fucking life.”
“It’s how he earned the name,” Luca said. “The Beast. The Knife.”
Riven’s throat worked around something that didn’t want to go down.
It made sense now. The simmering fury in Thane’s voice when he’d mentioned the Hollow Hand. The careful way he’d chosen his questions. The unreadable stillness that had followed Sorrell’s warning. It wasn’t fear.
It was history.
Blood in the water.
Riven let out a breath. “Fuck.”
Cassian watched him. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just…” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t be feeling sympathy for the guy who dragged me into all this.”
“You’re not the first to get tangled up in him,” Luca said, “and you won’t be the last.”
Cassian bumped Riven’s shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to stay tangled? We could all use a little company tonight.”
Riven snorted. “You two are relentless.”
“We’re fun,” Luca corrected.
“Debatable,” Riven muttered—but he was smiling, just a little.
Still, it didn’t last.
The halls of House Virellien were full of ghosts. No matter how much warmth the twins brought, it didn’t change the way the estate felt like a velvet-lined trap.
He pushed off the wall.
“I need air.”
Cassian frowned. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Just need to be somewhere that isn’t dripping in Virellien power plays and dead fathers.”
Neither twin argued. They just nodded.
“If you vanish,” Luca said, “at least leave a note this time.”
Riven nodded as he turned down the corridor, heart thudding.
He didn’t know where he was going—just that he had to move.
Had to escape the echo of that story. Had to shove down the maddening, foolish sympathy he felt for Thane Virellien, the Beast, the man who had carved his grief into legend and used it like a blade.
Because if he didn’t…
He might start to care.
And he couldn’t afford that.