Chapter Eighteen
CASSIA
I SIT BEHIND my desk, tapping my fingers rhythmically against the wooden surface. It’s been almost two full days since Mammon was killed, and we’ve learned nothing valuable about the murder. The entire kingdom of Greed has shut down, and we’ve not gotten a damned whisper of anything.
We now know it’s a man who killed Mammon, but that’s it. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that information?
My anger has yet to settle. If anything, it’s grown.
It doesn’t help that my parents are having one of their terribly hidden arguments. They believe that publicly fighting reflects poorly on their leadership, but anybody with half a brain can see the tension between them.
Aziel can barely tolerate being in the same room as Silas.
Gray is avoiding physical contact. Silas is sulking around like a scolded child.
Mom is refusing to leave the house. It’s a fucking mess, and it’s making it damn near impossible to secure answers.
I want to know every sordid detail of Mammon’s murder, but their lips are infuriatingly sealed shut.
It’s only a matter of time before this mystery man appears.
I assume he’s on his way to Wrath, and he must be near the border by now. I’m sure he’ll teleport directly to my fathers the second he crosses onto Wrath land. Why wouldn’t he? He’s looking for glory, and I bet he’s creaming his pants over the thought of earning my parents’ favor.
That’s all anybody cares about. Wraths are obsessed with power, whether by earning it themselves or aligning themselves with somebody who already has it. I can’t think of anybody more powerful than my parents.
Actually, I can. Me. I may not yet have as much physical strength as Aziel, nor do I have insight into fate like Silas and my sister, but I’m not to be discounted. I have drive and ambition, and that counts for something.
I lean back in my chair, my ever-growing frown deepening as I eye my bracelet. My jail sentence. I used to love diamonds, but I vow never to wear the precious stone again. My parents have ruined them for me, just as they’ve ruined everything else in my life.
I absentmindedly pick at the clasp, still hopeful I’ll find a way to pop it open. I’m debating dislocating my thumb so I can slide it over my hand, but I have no guarantee that will work. I’m not going to maim myself over a hunch.
There’s a sharp knock on my door, one I’m keen to ignore.
My office blinds have been drawn for days, a clear indicator not to bother me, and I don’t recognize the knock.
Whoever is on the other side of that door is neither family nor Jassy, therefore not worth my time.
I’m much too busy fantasizing about murder and revenge.
Another knock echoes through the room, one louder than the last.
“Cassia?”
I groan. I may not recognize the knock, but I sure recognize the voice.
“I know you’re in there!”
I fight back a snarky remark as I swivel my chair toward the door.
Uncle Chev doesn’t make a habit of visiting Wrath’s government buildings, mainly because he prefers bothering my parents at home.
He’s too comfortable with us. So are his children.
Aunt Vanessa is the only one who understands boundaries.
“What do you want?” I ask. I keep my voice level, knowing he can hear me through the door. “I’m busy.”
The doorknob turns, my response taken as an invitation to enter.
If Chev were one of my employees, he’d be fired on the spot.
I like my privacy, and I don’t tolerate disrespect.
It seems I have no choice but to accept it today as my office door swings open and Chev comes barreling inside.
He’s wearing traditional shifter leathers, and he anxiously tugs them down his thighs as he welcomes himself into my space.
Good. He should be anxious to visit me.
“Yes?” It’s impossible to keep the bite out of my voice, but to be fair, I’m not trying very hard to. “Can I help you with something?”
Chev nods so aggressively that his brown hair swings around his head.
I spot a few grays near his temple, and an immediate bolt of discomfort shoots down my spine.
Chev isn’t much older than I am, maybe only thirty or so years, but shifters have significantly shorter lifespans than demons.
I’m going to watch him and his entire bloodline age and die.
I don’t like to think about it, but the painful realization hits every time I’m confronted with the physical signs of his aging. I realistically only have a hundred or so years left with him.
“Your family is worried about you,” Chev says. He shuts my door and plops into the seat opposite my desk.
I blink. “And they sent you to check on me?”
“Yes. I’m a neutral individual.”
I’m pretty sure he was supposed to lie about having been sent here. If I know my parents, they sent him here with the explicit instruction to pretend he’s here of his own concern. I wouldn’t have believed it, but it’s the thought that counts.
“Why send you?” I ask. “Why not come themselves, or send Aunt Vanessa? I like her more.”
Chev shrugs, not the least bit offended by my jab.
It’s not the first time I’ve claimed to prefer Aunt Vanessa, but Chev knows I don’t mean it.
“I’m getting the impression that they’re afraid of you, and my mate is busy.
” He gestures toward my wrist. “Charlie told me about what Rexton did and about your bracelet. You should know I disagree with it.”
Rexton.
I suck my cheeks into my mouth, remaining silent. I need to play this carefully. Chev can be perceptive when he wants to be, and he clearly isn’t aware that I haven’t been told about Rexton. I recognize the name.
The Wrath name.
I should’ve fucking known.
“And what is it that Charlie told you about Rexton?” I ask, careful to maintain a healthy level of disinterest.
I pick at my nails. If I were a human with slower healing, I suspect my nailbeds would be torn to shreds. Instead, my skin is fresh and pink, with no blemishes to be found.
Was it Rexton? I fear I already know the answer, but I sincerely hope I’m wrong. I have to be wrong. If I’m not, I don’t know what I’ll do. If that sneaky fucking weasel of a man stole my kill, if he was the man secretly working with Silas and murdered Mammon, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I drop my hands into my lap and bury my nails into my thighs, then glance around the room.
My blinds are dusty and need to be cleaned, and there’s a small stain in the carpet where I spilled coffee several months ago.
There are cleaners available, but they don’t enter private offices.
I have to make a special request, but I’ve been too lazy to do so.
Chev shifts in his seat, visibly reluctant to answer my question. It was Rexton. I know it. I feel it in my bones, and I dig my fingernails further into the flesh of my thigh. Rexton was so fucking weak. He hardly had any power.
I’m going to rip that pathetic man apart piece by piece.
“What did my mother tell you about Rexton?” I ask again.
Chev shrugs. “Nothing worth repeating.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Look,” Chev starts, “I’ve known you your entire life, Cassia. You’ve been quiet these past few days, and that means trouble. You didn’t kill Mammon, and I understand you’re disappointed about that, but you can’t take your anger out on others.”
“I can’t take my anger out on Rexton, you mean.”
“How do you feel about coming to stay with me for a few weeks?” Chev asks, changing the subject. “It’s been a while since you’ve spent time in the shifter realm, and the family would love to see you. It might be good to visit nature. It’s quite healing.”
Is he serious? “Did my parents put you up to this?”
“No.” Chev shakes his head. “Your parents are actually against this idea. They believe you should remain here and face your feelings head-on, but I disagree. This offer is my own.”
I uncurl my fingers, removing my nails from my thighs, but I keep my hands in my lap. Chev seems genuine, but I won’t accept his offer. I can’t leave Wrath if Rexton is the man who murdered Mammon. He has no power, but he’s charming.
He snuck his way into Mammon’s good graces, into the fucking royal family, and I refuse to let the same happen here. My parents would never force me to marry as Princess Amelia was, but that doesn’t mean they won’t welcome Rexton into the fold.
He’s going to infiltrate my family, infiltrate my kingdom, and I can’t let that happen.
I may not realistically be able to kill him, not without backlash, but that doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight.
I am Aziel’s heir and the rightful leader of Wrath.
People need to know that I’m a better option than Rexton.
Despite my failure and Rexton’s success, I’m the most qualified person to make decisions on behalf of the kingdom.
“My children and I are planning a hunt,” Chev continues. “It’s ucka season, and there have been sightings of some large males near the pack lands. We would be grateful to share our table with you.”
My lips twitch upward despite my best efforts not to smile. Chev and I share a love of ucka, and he’s notoriously greedy of his kills. The shifters are careful not to overhunt the animal, and those outside the shifter realm are rarely given access to fresh meat.
“Thanks for the offer,” I say. I mean it, too. “But I’m going to remain here.”
A look of mild disappointment flashes across Chev’s face, but it quickly vanishes.
He’s not one to dwell, and he won’t hold a grudge over my rejection.
Besides, I’m sure a small part of him is relieved.
Chev’s people don’t like demons on their lands—my family and me included.
We make them uneasy, probably because we’re stronger than they are.
“I’d be happy to come over for dinner, though,” I say. “I’ll never turn down ucka.”
Chev smirks. “The offer wasn’t for dinner. If you want ucka, you have to stay.” He stands, his eyes darting around my office. “Consider my offer. You deserve a break, and the shifter lands would be good for you.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “Thank you.”
Chev nods, quietly excusing himself.
I watch him leave, my heart pounding.
Fucking Rexton.
I’m livid I didn’t recognize him for who he was. He made an absolute fool out of me, and it’s no wonder my parents are trying to keep his identity a secret. They must have figured out that I met him during my brief stay in Greed.
I haven’t shared my plans with them, but I told Aziel I was invited to the royal wedding. They must have put two and two together.
I bet they’re discussing the best way to break the news to me. They know this will fuel me, and they’re always begging me to calm down. They want me relaxed and docile, but the fire has already been lit.
Rexton won’t get the better of me. Not again.