Chapter Forty-Two
Kayden
It all feels wrong. The slow jazz crooning from the speakers, the glitter of evening gowns and tuxes, the goddamn champagne flutes floating around like we're at a gala, not setting a trap for the love-of-our-life-turned-executioner.
She's out there somewhere, reborn in shadow and venom. And we're here pretending this is normal.
We linger near the stage like some twisted honor guard: Asher in his pristine military uniform, Darius in a tux like he's about to make a billion-dollar acquisition, Maeve wrapped in satin and nerves.
Astrid and Tomas are patrolling the perimeter, sharp-eyed and silent.
Donna's somewhere with her parents, the mayor undoubtedly schmoozing some donors.
Even Jace showed up—shocking, honestly. He's been shooting me dirty looks all evening. I wink at him every time. He needs a villain for his story, someone to blame for Winston's death. Let him write me in as the monster. I've played worse roles.
"I still don't think she'll come," I mutter under my breath. "We've got eyes on every entrance. Why the hell would she walk into a trap like this?"
"Because we're giving her an opening," Asher says calmly, scanning the room like he's mapping a battlefield. "Several openings throughout the night."
"Ruaidhrí's watching the feeds," Darius adds with a smug note. "Wherever she tries to sneak in from, we'll make sure she succeeds. But we'll track every move. It's a layered approach."
My eyes shift, just past his shoulder to the front entrance. I swear the world tilts.
"Or maybe…" I say, voice gone dry, "she'll step through the main door."
They follow my gaze.
Sage walks in like her name's on the goddamn building. Dressed in a black dress, her lips blood-red, stilettos clicking with lethal precision, sharp enough to cut throats. Every sway of her hips is a challenge and a dare.
She plucks a flute of champagne off a tray without breaking stride, her chin high, gaze locked ahead with calculation.
It's Sage. But it's not. It's her body, her fire, her impossible gravity, but the soul behind her eyes is gone. Maybe not forever. That's the damn hope.
She steps beside us, nodding toward Maeve, who looks pale.
"You all look shocked," she says with a sugary tilt to her voice. "Like you weren't expecting me. And here I thought I was at the top of your guest list."
"You are," Darius says, deadpan. "Though not officially."
Her smile is pure performance, eyes glittering with false innocence. "Oh dear. Did I ruin the trap? Clumsy me."
"Oh yeah, you wrecked it beautifully," I drawl, arms crossed. "The legendary trap masterminded by the ancient and oh-so-wise Darius himself. Real shame it wasn't needed, since you walked right in."
She chuckles, self-deprecating and insincere. "I did, didn't I? So silly of me."
But we're all reading her. Something's off. She's not here to talk.
Asher cuts in, cold and clipped. "What did you do, Sage?"
"Straight to business. I do love that about you, Colonel," she says, lifting her glass. "A vampire with integrity. Such a delightful contradiction."
She sips champagne like she's got all night. I'm seconds away from losing it when she continues.
"You have two options," she says, voice soft. "One with a little blood. One with a lot."
She glances around. "Option one: we all behave like civilized monsters. Head out to the garden with the druid. Bleed a little. Break our lovely bond. Everyone walks away alive. Option two…" She tilts her head, eyes dancing. "Lots of dead bodies. Your call."
Darius raises his glass like this is just another fucking evening in the Hamptons. "You're alone. We can overpower you in seconds."
She grins, then waves across the room at Jace, who frowns and starts toward us.
"Ah, but I'm not alone," she sing-songs. "You see, vampires have this charming little talent called influence. Makes people do all kinds of things. And as it turns out—I've got it too."
Her gaze flicks between us, one by one. "I have twenty of them. Right here. Party guests, staff, friends of friends. And in exactly twenty minutes, unless I say otherwise, they'll go feral. Tear this place apart."
My stomach drops.
"Asher," I mutter, but he's already signaling for our people to hold. Jace freezes mid-step, watching us confused as hell.
Sage swirls her glass like she's announcing the weather. "But hey, if you agree to my terms, I'll point them out. We can work together and prevent this tragic bloodbath before it begins."
Asher's jaw clenches so tight it could shatter. Darius doesn't flinch. I'm cursing under my breath and trying not to think about how goddamn beautiful she looks when she's threatening to kill everyone.
She plucks another glass off a passing tray like she's here for networking. Like this is some startup gala, and she's scoping out her next investor. Then her expression shifts by a flicker.
I follow her gaze. Lydia Bright glides in first, all polished smiles and pearls. Behind her, Donna looks like she's walking into a funeral. And flanking them, a man and a woman Sage clearly knows.
Lydia opens with that crisp, diplomatic chirp, "If we may intrude, there's someone here who'd like to say hello to Sage."
"Mother. Father," Sage says, all icy composure, but I catch the glint in her eye.
Murder.
Yeah, that's a familiar feeling.
Donna, trying to bridge the awkward chasm, clears her throat. "Yes, Mother was kind enough to reach out and… invite them."
"Indeed." Lydia beams. "Since Sage and Mr. Hawthorn are working with us now, I thought it only prudent to extend a greeting to the Quinns."
Of course she did. Never misses a chance to rub shoulders with the crème de la fucked-up crème.
"It was such an unexpected pleasure," the man says—Mr. Quinn, apparently. "Thank you, Mrs. Bright."
"Please, call me Lydia," she chirps.
"And you may call us Samantha and John," the mother adds, tone careful. "Sage, dear, you look wonderful. We didn't know you were… working with Mr. Hawthorn."
Trying to spin it like everything's fine. Like they didn't disown their daughter and had no idea what she was up to, or even if she was alive.
"It's more than work, Mother. Darius and I were engaged," she says smoothly.
Bomb. Dropped.
Every face around us freezes like they've been slapped with a champagne flute. Even Darius's mask slips for half a second.
"However," Sage continues with faux sweetness, "I found someone better. Two someones, actually. And I married them. Broke it off with Darius. But no hard feelings, right?" She flashes him a dazzling grin.
I have to fight not to cackle. Evil or not, the drama is pure art. The expressions around us? Gold. Even Donna's doing a cartoon double-take like did she just say that out loud?
"Well… that's quite eventful," Lydia says, voice tighter than her smile.
"You have no idea, Mrs. Bright," Sage replies with a singsong edge. "This is such a lovely event, truly. I can already tell it's building toward a spectacular climax."
Subtlety is dead and buried. Right next to whatever was left of her empathy.
Lydia blinks, floundering. "Thank you, Sage. I… apologize, Mr. Darrow, but may we borrow Sage and Mr. Hawthorn for a moment? There's someone I'd like them to meet."
Darius inclines his head.
Asher replies, "Of course."
And just like that, the entire walking disaster of a welcome party floats off, leaving me and my brother standing in their wake, with Maeve lingering nearby like she wants to vanish into the floor.
I blow out a breath. "Well, that was a scene if I ever saw one."
"It's a complication," Asher mutters, eyes scanning the crowd like he's suddenly gained an ability to detect compromised humans. "We have less than twenty minutes before the attack."
"She could be bluffing," I say, though even as the words leave my mouth, I know it's bullshit. And judging by the twitch in Asher's jaw, so does he.
"Either way, we can't let her break the bond," I add, trying to sound casual, but glancing sideways at my brother. The ever-righteous soldier. I wouldn't put it past him to offer up our marriage like a lamb to slaughter if it meant saving a few strangers.
"If you want her back, I wouldn't do that," Maeve says, stepping beside us. "She's almost gone. Your bond is the only thread left."
We lock eyes. The air gets heavy.
We have to find a way.
Darius appears, weaving through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. Must be nice walking around with that much smug assurance that the world bends around you. And yeah, people make way. They always do for power. Even if it's a monster in a tux.
"We need to change plans," he says without preamble. "Contain her. And the compromised humans."
"Oh good, another plan," I say, my tone venom-slick. "Do they all fall apart as fast as your engagement, or was that one special?"
"Kayden," Asher warns, but I don't care. Not tonight.
Darius turns those cold green eyes on me. "Do you really want to become my enemy again, vampire?"
I smile, bitter. "I don't see much of a difference. My life was a disaster before, and guess what? Still is. My wife's a feral nymph-vampire hybrid with murder eyes and a blood trail. Being on your side hasn't exactly been a glow-up."
Before he can shoot back, Donna rushes over, breathless. "Can you both shut it with the testosterone bullshit? Sage disappeared."
"What?" Asher and I ask in sync.
"She was here one second with her parents. And then… vanished into the back gardens, or maybe the building. I don't know." She motions wildly. "One moment I'm talking to my dad, next she's gone. Took the Quinns with her."
"Well… fuck," I mutter.
"We have to stop her," Darius says, voice low.
"Before she does something she can't forgive herself for," Asher adds, and yeah, that's the part that sticks.
Because if she kills her parents, no matter how scummy they are, there's no coming back from that. Not for her.
"You two go," Darius orders, already walking off. "I'll check in with Ru. He's monitoring everything."
My brother and I walk side by side, in step like soldiers, into the shadows at the back of the venue to prevent our wife from killing her estranged parents. Honestly, what fucked-up soap opera hell did we wake up in?