CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
The distant hillside offers the perfect vantage point. Hours have passed since the ceremony ended. I watched it all—Aubrey gliding down that aisle in ivory silk, Knox sliding that wedding ring onto her finger like he has any right to claim what I created.
But soon, that pristine white will be stained crimson.
"My lord," Avery approaches, violet eyes bright with anticipation. "They're distracted by joy and wine. We should strike now."
"No. Not yet." My voice carries enough menace to make her step back. "I don't want them dead drunk on happiness. I want them conscious. I want my father to know exactly who's taking his life."
Hours pass. I watch the reception wind down, guests departing, Knox escorting his bride to their chambers. When the last light dims, I finally rise.
"Now," I tell Avery. "Now we move."
Her magic unfurls like living shadow, crumbling the castle's defenses. We move through corridors like ghosts, her power muffling our steps and clouding guards' minds.
Alexander's chambers lie behind doors I knocked on as a child seeking comfort from nightmares. How many times did my father choose duty over love, choose political stability over protecting the woman who bore his son?
The lock yields to Avery's magic. Inside, I hear soft voices—Alexander and Grace discussing the wedding.
I push open the door deliberately. Alexander sits by the fireplace in ceremonial robes while Grace brushes her hair. Such domestic bliss built on lies and blood.
"Jax! Son, you missed the ceremony—" Alexander's face brightens, then transforms to horror as he takes in my expression.
"Hello, father." My voice carries all the venom I've stored for years. "Grace?"
Grace drops her brush, face pale as moonlight.
"Son, what's wrong?" Alexander rises slowly.
"Like someone who watched his mother die?" I step closer, Avery sealing the door behind us. "Like a ten-year-old boy who hid behind curtains while this woman murdered her?"
Alexander's blood drains away. "Your mother died of illness—"
"Liar. She died choking on her own blood after Grace forced poisoned wine down her throat. I was there, Father. Hiding behind the curtains, watching it all."
"That's not... you weren't there," Grace chokes.
"But I was. I watched you threaten my mother because she refused to stay hidden. I heard you tell her to drink poison. I saw her collapse in my arms while blood poured from her mouth."
Alexander staggers. "Grace... tell me this isn't true."
"What choice did I have?" The words burst from her. "She was threatening to expose everything! I did what any queen would do—I protected what was mine!"
"There it is." Satisfaction flows through me. "Finally, the confession I've been waiting years to hear."
I pull out a small vial—wolf poison, refined and concentrated. "Twenty years since I held my dying mother. Twenty years of planning this moment."
"Son, please," Alexander's voice cracks. "Killing us won't bring her back—"
"You're right. But it will give me justice. And the crown that should have been hers."
Grace lunges for the door, but Avery's magic slams her against the wall.
"You want to know what I remember most? Her final words. 'Found you, baby,' she whispered as she died. We were playing hide and seek when you came to murder her."
"I was protecting my family!" Grace sobs.
"The kingdom needed a true queen. Not a jealous pretender who murders mothers while their children watch."
Alexander struggles to stand. "Take your anger out on me—I'm the one who failed Elena."
"She's not even your mate, Father. I'm your only true heir—the son of your actual destined mate."
I uncork the vial, wolfsbane filling the air like the promise of death.
"This is how it ends. With the same agony I watched my mother endure."
"Please, son—" Alexander whispers.
"You don't deserve mercy," I agree, forcing the poison between his lips.
Grace screams as her husband collapses, convulsions wracking his frame. I turn to her with the same cold efficiency.
"This is for my mother," I whisper as the poison takes hold. "This is for making a ten-year-old boy watch his mother die."
As the wolf poison courses through their veins, their faces contort in agony that mirrors what my mother endured. I watch in silence, waiting for the moment I've spent years planning.
Soon, mother. Soon they'll pay for every tear you shed, every drop of blood you choked on.
The room fills with the scent of death and justice served cold, and finally—finally—I allow myself a slow, victorious smile.