Chapter 5 | Kincade
I stayed when she left. The echo of her in the parlor. The faint scent of her lingering where she’d stood. Her defiance. Her stubbornness. The sharp edge of her will.
She’d faced down Lucifer, sure.
She’d even fought Sebastian in hand-to-hand combat when she’d come looking for me in Turkey.
I didn’t doubt her determination or her resolve. I doubted we could stop what was coming.
Things were different now, with Sebastian in charge.
Sebastian Crane.
I tasted the name like blood at the back of my throat.
He wouldn’t send soldiers. He wouldn’t threaten the manor outright. He would be patient. Surgical. He would find the precise pressure point and apply it without mercy.
The thought tightened something ugly in my chest.
I left the room and went up the stairs to the library. The manor breathed differently in here—slower, steadier. As if the walls themselves remembered gentler days.
There, I poured myself a drink I didn’t intend to finish. The glass stayed untouched in my hand as I peered out the window at the morning, eyes fixed on nothing. The Brotherhood believed time was on their side. That inevitability would do the work for them.
They were wrong.
I had bent the knee to darker powers than Sebastian Crane. I had stood before Lucifer himself and refused to break.
But this was different.
This wasn’t about my obedience.
This was about what I would become to keep them from touching her.
Walking away from the Brotherhood had carved its debt into bone and now it was coming due.
Grace strolled in, humming something under her breath carrying a tattered book that had seen better days. She gave me a good morning nod as she crossed the room to one of the bookshelves.
“Heard we had a visitor.” She said this like the visitor was nothing more than an old acquaintance coming to catch up.
Grace’s blonde hair fading into silver hung down her back in long waves. She and Piers had struck up an unlikely flirtation.
She replaced the book on the shelf, then grabbed another one. “You look like a man who found out the storm’s headed straight for his house.”
My eyes narrowed. “Did Anna send you?”
She laughed. “Honey, that girl doesn’t send anyone. You know that. But she does leave a wake when she passes through.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I knocked back the drink, then reached for a refill. Old Edward Walker always carried the finest whiskey, and Anna was keeping up with tradition.
“Something happened, didn’t it?” she asked.
She was intuitive. I met her gaze then. Her eyes were kind, but there was steel under it. A single woman who had raised a girl like Anna Walker didn’t come by that lightly.
I imagined she was a handful when she was younger.
Hell, she was a handful as a grown woman.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she continued. “I’ve been around you two long enough to know something dangerous has come sniffing around the family.”
Family. Like I was part of it. Hers. Anna’s.
A pretty lie I’d let myself believe.
“I’m not—” I started.
“You are. Don’t pretend you’re not.”
Her Southern charm was endearing.
And infuriating.
Then she said, “You belong here as much as she does.”
My hand tightened on the glass I forgot I held. This wasn’t my home. I hadn’t had one in centuries. It was Anna’s. Grace’s. Natasha’s.
She started to leave, then halted. Turned back.
“You know, Anna is strong. She always has been. Even when she was girl fighting to keep her abilities under control.” She emitted a soft laugh then, remembering.
Then turned serious, “Whatever it is that’s coming, she’s stronger with you than without. ”
Then she strolled out.
That was Grace. She’d drop her wisdom like a bomb and then disappear into a wisp of air.
Her footsteps faded down the long hallway, the soft cadence of her humming dissolving into the quiet of the manor. I remained rooted in place, glass in hand.
Family.
The word lingered. Unwelcome. Dangerous.
My family had been dead for over a millennium. The Brotherhood had become my family until it wasn’t.
A knock at the door. Then, “This came for you.”
Piers. I looked over, saw the plain envelope in his outstretched hand. I moved across the room, took it. No seal. No markings. My name written across the front in careful, deliberate script.
“Thanks,” I said.
And Piers retreated back to the hallway.
I didn’t open it right away. Because whatever was inside wasn’t a message I wanted. I walked back across the room, dropped the glass on the cart.
The paper was thick. Heavier than it should have been. Deliberate.
I opened it.
The note inside was short. Four lines. No signature.
You’ve had your freedom.
You’ve made your choice.
Now it’s time to understand the cost.
Bring her to us—or we’ll come to you.
No threats. No flourish.
Inevitability.
My hand tightened around the paper until it crumpled. Heat flared beneath my skin, old instincts rising like ghosts. They wanted fear. Urgency. Reaction.
They would get none of it.
I smoothed the note and folded it again, slipping it into the pocket of my pants. Anna couldn’t see this. Not yet. The moment she did, she’d brace for impact and Sebastian was counting on that.
I stayed at the window longer than necessary, watching the grounds as if willing threats into revealing themselves. The Brotherhood always moved in shadows first. They wanted anticipation to do the damage.
I knew that game. I’d helped design it.
The note weighed heavier in my pocket than any blade I’d ever carried. Not because of the threat, but because of the choice it demanded.
Bring her to us.
I closed my eyes for a moment and the past rose unbidden. Stone corridors. Oaths spoken in blood and fire. Orders followed without question because questioning had been carved out of me piece by piece.
I had survived because I learned how to become what they needed.
The thought turned in my gut now, sharp and unwelcome.
If protecting Anna meant becoming that man again—
No.
The denial came fast. Instinctive. But denial had never stopped the Brotherhood before.
I exhaled and forced my hands to unclench. She believed in choice. In agency. In fighting with her feet planted firmly in the light.
She had no idea what shadows I could still reach into.
The realization settled cold and steady.
Sebastian believed this was a test. A line drawn.
He’d miscalculated.
It was an invitation.
And if the Brotherhood thought they could force me to choose between my past and her future—
I would show them how far I was willing to go to ensure she never had to make that choice herself.
I intended to cross that line.