Chapter 16
The ride back to the estate was heavy, filled with the kind of silence that curdled in the stomach, thick and sour, made worse by the weight of failure and the stench of death still clinging to their clothes.
Riven sat in the back of the armored vehicle beside Thane, who hadn’t spoken a word since they left the motel.
The others were equally grim, but it was Thane whose fury simmered the hottest, every line of his body taut with restrained violence.
Thane hadn’t removed his bloodied coat. The splashes of gore from the berserk Soulglass addict were still drying on the collar, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Riven noticed. He noticed everything—Thane’s clenched jaw, the slight tic in his cheek, the way his left hand kept curling into a fist and relaxing again.
Every mile they got closer to the estate, the pressure grew heavier.
Riven almost said something. A warning. A distraction.
But he didn’t. He was still too keyed up, still tasting the adrenaline from the ambush.
Two of Thane’s dead, and nothing to show for it but a corpse and a dead end.
They hadn’t even gotten Kieran. The bastard had vanished like smoke in the chaos.
The gates to the estate opened with mechanical precision. As soon as they pulled into the main drive and the doors unlocked, Thane was already out and moving. Riven followed, but slower, every instinct telling him something was off.
That was when he saw her.
The Matriarch stood at the top of the grand staircase in the estate’s main hall, clad in midnight velvet with her silver hair braided tight against her skull.
Her presence was a storm in still water, calm on the surface but promising devastation beneath.
Behind her, flanking the marble archway like a shadow, stood a man a bit younger than Thane, he had the same angular cheekbones and winter-pale eyes, but there was a curl to his lip and a cruel glint in his gaze that made Riven’s skin crawl.
“Well,” the Matriarch said, voice cutting like a blade. “I see you’ve returned.”
Thane halted at the base of the stairs and inclined his head. “We were ambushed. The target slipped away during the chaos.”
“And yet again, the Virellien name is made to look weak.” Her words were smooth, but venomous. “Tell me, what good is a knife that misses its mark?”
Thane’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The man beside her snorted and crossed his arms. “Maybe the knife’s gone dull,” he offered, mocking. “Or maybe the hand that wields it has grown clumsy.”
Riven’s eyes snapped to him. “Who the fuck are you?”
The man turned to him, delighted. “Ah, the stray Thane brought home in exchange for some pissant’s debt. How quaint. I’m Asterian.” His smile was all teeth. “Thane’s brother.”
“Brother?” Riven echoed, disbelieving.
“Indeed,” Asterian said, drawling the word, “though he rarely admits it.”
The Matriarch lifted one elegant hand. “Enough, Asterian.”
But Asterian wasn’t finished. He looked Thane over with feigned concern. “You look tired, brother. Maybe all this playing soldier is catching up to you.”
Riven couldn’t stop himself. “He did what he could with the intel we had—”
“Silence.” Thane’s voice was a whip crack, sharp and cold.
Riven turned to him, stunned. “What?”
“You speak when spoken to.” Thane didn’t look at him, didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. His fury was barely restrained.
Riven stood motionless, heat prickling beneath his skin.
The reprimand shouldn’t have hit so hard—he’d been shouted at before, and with harsher words—but something in Thane’s voice, that cold command to silence him like a disobedient hound, cut deeper than it should have.
Shame curled in his gut, quick and angry.
He didn’t even know why he’d spoken up. Just that watching Thane take hit after hit without defense had sparked something fierce in him.
Why the fuck did he care what these people thought of Thane? Why did it matter?
And why, even now, did it hurt to be shut down by him?
The Matriarch descended one step, her voice regaining its chill. “Failure in the field compromises our reputation. You know how much blood it cost to carve out this territory. Do you think I will see it slip because you’re too stubborn to share your burden?”
Thane’s mouth was a flat line. “It was my call. My failure.”
“Oh, we agree on that,” she said mildly.
“You’ve wasted resources,” she said, voice soft but sharp enough to draw blood.
“You lost men. You brought nothing back but questions. And worse, you exposed a Virellien team to public violence. Do you understand the ripple that creates? What message it sends?”
“We did what we had to,” Thane said, voice monotonous.
“You did what you chose.” Her gaze narrowed. “And once again, your choices cost us.”
Riven saw the flicker—just a flash—of something behind Thane’s eyes. Pain? Fury? It was gone too fast to catch.
“I don’t need justification,” the Matriarch said. “I need results.” She stepped closer, almost nose to nose with her son. “The Hollow Hand resurfacing is not your concern. Your job is to cut. Neatly Quietly. Without bleeding all over the floor.”
Thane inclined his head just enough to be called a bow. “Understood.”
The Matriarch stepped down one more stair. “Clean yourself up. Report to me in ten minutes. And find me something concrete, before we lose more than pawns.”
She turned on her heel and swept away, her entourage following.
Asterian lingered a moment longer, smirking. “Chin up, brother. There’s always next time. Unless Mother decides you’re not worth sharpening anymore.” With that, he departed in the wake of his mother.
The air in the entryway felt too thick after that. Riven turned toward Thane, fury clawing at the back of his throat. “What the hell was that?”
Thane didn’t meet his gaze. “That was me keeping you from making it worse.”
“I wasn’t going to make it worse. I was defending you—”
“And I didn’t ask for that,” Thane said cruelly. “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”
Riven’s teeth ground together. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Thane stepped past him without another word, his boots loud against the polished floor. Riven watched him go, hands clenched at his sides, stomach twisted.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Why had he spoken up at all?
And why, even now, did it feel hollow to be left behind?