Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sage
We're promised a truce for Winston's funeral, but it feels fragile and uneasy. The same words could be used for the space between Asher, Kayden, and me. We circle one another carefully, all sharp edges and silence, carrying too many things unsaid.
So much has gone wrong. I keep hearing Asher's words about the zero-sum game in my head.
Either Darius wins, or we do. And the way Darius looks at me, how determined he is, how he refuses to listen to reason, it makes the path forward feel inevitable.
Like the only way to win is the one I can't bear to think about.
Both brothers are already dressed for the funeral. Dark, perfectly cut suits that make them look like they stepped out of some old-world portrait. Kayden's glance flicks to me, quick and unreadable, before he turns on his heel and leaves the kitchen.
Asher lingers. "I need to do a supply run and I don't want to leave him unsupervised." His chin tips toward the door Kayden disappeared through. "I asked Astrid to come by. She'll take you to the funeral, all right?"
I nod. "All right. I'll see you there."
He studies me for a moment, then his fingers brush the side of my face in a fleeting touch before he leaves.
Not long after, Astrid strides in. Her gait is stiffer than usual, the dark clothes she wears making her seem heavier, less invincible. She grabs a beer from the fridge, pops it open, and leans against the counter to drink.
I flip aimlessly through a book just to keep my hands busy. Winston's books. The thought nearly breaks me. My throat tightens, a sob threatening, but I shove it down. Not now. I'll break later.
I glance up at her. "Are you angry with me?"
Astrid doesn't dodge my question. "I thought about it," she admits. "But no. Not you. It's Kayden. And Darius. Men who think they can do anything without consequence. The vampire should be dead, not Winston."
"Nobody should be dead," I counter softly.
She shrugs. "People always die. Some deserve it more than others."
"I don't think it's up to us to decide that."
Her grin is sharp and humorless. "Right. That's what you told yourself when you fried vampires in containers? That it wasn't your decision, but nature doing its job?"
I don't answer. She's right.
"Ever think about how different it would be if you'd let Kayden die there?" she asks.
I breathe out slowly. Of course I've thought about it.
It would all be different. But what ifs don't bring the dead back.
And the truth is—I wouldn't want Kayden gone.
No matter what he's done, no matter the ruin he drags in his wake, I love him.
However furious I get, however betrayed I feel, part of my heart, for better or worse, belongs to him.
I try to lose myself in the book again while Astrid works her way through Asher's beer stash. Then her phone pings. She checks the screen, eyes flicking sharp.
"It's the supplier. They have the blade."
My head snaps up. "Really? Last Song of a Satyr?" I can't hide my disbelief. A part of me thought it was only a myth, ink on a page.
She nods, lips tight. "Sixty thousand. Cash. And they want it fast."
"Sixty?" The number knocks the breath out of me. "That's… a lot. Why so soon?"
Astrid shrugs. "Price depends on rarity. And soon probably means they've got another buyer circling, or they want us to bite without haggling. Could be a trick."
I nod slowly, my mind spinning. If it's real, the leverage would be undeniable.
A blade that could kill Darius.
The thought makes my stomach clench. I run the scenarios anyway: Asher and Kayden setting a trap, the blade finding his heart. Darius's people pulling away after, or retaliating half-blind without their leader.
I can picture it clearly—Kayden with his feral grin, reveling in the strike. Asher, cold and precise, military efficiency in every movement.
But Darius isn't defenseless. He'd strike back. He could take down one of them. Or both of them. And all of us would get caught in the crossfire.
Zero-sum game. The words echo in my head. No winners, only graves.
No. There has to be another way.
"Can you show me?" I ask, keeping my tone even. "I want to see if it looks right."
Astrid comes over, turning her phone so I can see the messages.
The blade looks real: ancient, twisted wood entwined with gleaming metal.
I pretend to study the photo, but instead my focus sharpens on the phone number. I repeat it in my head until it sticks.
I hand the phone back. "Looks legit. We'll tell Asher after the funeral."
"Sure." Astrid slips the phone into her pocket.
I force a smile, then push back from the counter. "I'll go change."
Upstairs, the moment I'm alone, I scribble the number into my phone and start typing.
I saw you're selling the druid blade. I want to bid higher and buy it today.
The response comes almost instantly: Bid then.
My hands shake as I unzip the backpack shoved under my bed. My fingers close around the box I swore I'd never touch again—the engagement ring Darius gave me. I snap a photo, send it.
This is worth at least twice your asking price. Where do I meet you?
My heart pounds while the typing dots appear and vanish, appear again.
Finally: Alright. Your location?
I'm in Briar Hollow. I respond.
First a location pin comes through. Then a message: I can be there in two hours.
The map glows on my screen. An abandoned wood mill. Industrial yard, remote, tucked far into the woods. An hour and a half from here. Remote means risky. But if I want this in my hands—if I want a chance to shift the balance—I have no choice.
I'll be there, I type and hit send.
Now all I have to do is get past Astrid.
My eyes land on the black dress laid out for the funeral. On instinct, I grab it and tear a seam, then march downstairs with it clutched in my hands, wearing my most annoyed, harried expression.
"You're not ready," Astrid notes, standing by the door, poised to leave.
"My dress got ripped. I need to mend it quickly. Don't wait for me, go ahead. I'll take Kayden's car and meet you there."
She studies me, as if trying to see beneath the words. "You sure? I can wait."
"I'm sure." I don't let her get another word in before I turn, closing the conversation.
"As you will," she says and leaves.
Relief floods me. Valkyries, apparently, believe in agency and free will. If it had been Kayden, he would have chained me to the damn banister.
I bolt back upstairs and change fast into plain dark clothes. Still fitting for the funeral if I make it. When Astrid's car engine rumbles to life and fades down the road, I slip into Kayden's room, swipe his keys, and get a gun from Asher's room, just in case. Then I'm off to the garage.
The road unfurls ahead of me, rain streaking the windshield. My pulse hammers with every mile.
I keep circling the same thoughts: I'm the only one who can get close to Darius without suspicion. The only one who can take the blade, hide it, and use it before he knows what's happening.
But then, a darker question gnaws at me: If it came to that… could I do it? Could I drive a killing strike into the man I once said yes to marrying? The man whose ring burns like radioactive in my pocket?
Logic whispers that it might be the only way. The endgame. The strike that saves us all.
But my heart… my heart splinters at the thought. The pain is sharp, searing, and impossible to ignore.
Whatever happens, I need the blade. I need to be the one holding it. Maybe I can find another way. Something that isn't zero-sum.
My fingers tighten on the wheel. The rain lashes harder. The road narrows, darker and lonelier, while all I can hear is the steady rhythm of my pulse beating out the question I don't want answered.