Chapter 29: : Chapter 28

Serena and I are fairly well-trained in self-defense, but Vania is my father’s most skilled enforcer. She’s holding not one, but two knives, and is flanked by two guards—the same who escorted me into Vampyre territory all those weeks ago. Attempting to take them would be severely idiotic, and Serena and I are not quite that bad. So we march in front of her, hands raised over our heads, and follow her directions. Aware that should one of us decide to run, the other would end up with a knife in her back.

Let’s be real: Serena would end up with a knife in her back. I would probably just get dragged by the ear in front of my father.

Because we’re at the Nest. And Vania answers to him and no one else.

“If they murder me, avenge me,” Serena whispers.

It’s nice, all this faith she seems to have in me. “Any preferences on how?”

“Be creative.”

Father is waiting in his office, once again sitting in the high-back leather chair behind his massive wooden desk, surrounded by four more guards. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and he doesn’t stand, nor does he offer us a seat. Instead he leans his elbows on the dark mahogany and joins his fingertips in front of his face, waiting for me to say something.

So I don’t.

I’m hurt, betrayed, shocked at my father’s involvement in something this egregious, but I’m also . . . not. No point in being surprised by a notoriously ruthless, selfish assassin when they stick a knife in your back—even if they are a relative. It’s a totally different story when the stabbing is done by someone you consider to be a kind, decent person. Someone you consider a friend.

My gaze lands on Mick, who stands by Father’s desk like one of his enforcers would. It lingers for as long as it takes for Mick to lower his own eyes. He looks ashamed, and I’m okay with that.

“Why?” I ask him flatly. When he says nothing, I add, “It was you, wasn’t it?”

The grooves at the sides of his mouth deepen.

“Is Emery even in on this? Or did you just talk everyone around you into believing that she was targeting Ana because the Loyals were a convenient scapegoat?”

He looks away in what can only be confirmation, and my fists curl with fear and anger. You’re despicable, I want to say, I hate you. But he seems to be already filled with self-disgust.

“Why?” I ask again.

“He has my son,” he whispers, looking at Father. Who has the self-satisfied expression of someone who checkmated everyone in the game.

“Then you should have told Lowe.”

Mick shakes his head. “Lowe couldn’t—”

“Lowe would have done anything for you,” I hiss, nauseous with rage. “Lowe would die himself before he let anything happen to a pack member. You’ve known him since he was a child—he’s your Alpha, and yet you don’t understand him at all.” Anger bubbles. I can’t remember the last time I spoke this harshly to someone. “The poison, it was you, wasn’t it? Did you also send Max after Ana?”

“Misery,” Father interrupts. “You are a never-ending source of disappointment.”

My head whips in his direction. “Yeah? Since you’ve been taking people hostage and blackmailing them, I could say the same, but the bar was already so fucking low.”

His eyes harden. “This is what you miss, Misery. Why you could never become a leader.”

I snort. “Because I don’t go around kidnapping people.”

“Because you have always been selfish and close-minded. Stubbornly unable to understand that the ends justify the means, and that things like fairness and peace and happiness are bigger than one specific person—or than a handful of them. The good of the most, Misery.” His shoulders rise and fall. “When you and your brother were little and the need for a Collateral arose, I had to decide which one of you would have the grit to take my place on the council. And I’m glad I chose Owen over you.”

I roll my eyes. There’s a good chance I won’t be alive when Owen’s coup goes down, but boy, do I wish I could witness Father shitting himself.

“Why do you think Vampyres still hold power, Misery? All over the world, our communities have been splintering. Many of them don’t hold their own territories, and are forced to live among the Humans. And yet, despite our dwindling numbers, here in North America we still have our home. Why do you think that is?”

“Because you so selflessly kill everyone who stands in your way?”

“Like I said: a source of disappointment.”

“Because of your strategic alliances within this geographical region,” Serena answers evenly in my place. Everyone turns to her in surprise, as though her presence was a forgotten thing.

Not by my father, though. “Miss Paris.” He nods courteously. “You are, of course, correct.”

“In the past hundred years, Humans and Weres have alternated between ignoring each other and being on the brink of war because of border disputes. They both have advantages over Vampyres, physical and numerical, but they’ve never even considered leveraging them. Because the Vampyres have somehow managed . . . well, not somehow,” Serena explains, a trace of that bitterness in her tone. “Through the Collateral system, you cultivated a very beneficial political alliance with the Humans. And the Weres knew this, just like they knew that any overt attack on Vampyre territory would unleash Human military power on them. That’s how you kept yourselves safe through the decades, despite being the most vulnerable of the three species.”

“Very thorough.” Father nods, satisfied.

“I imagine there’s more. For instance, I’m certain that if we were to look closely at the border skirmishes between Weres and Humans in the past few decades, we’d find that they were facilitated by Vampyre action. Just like I’m certain that considerable bribes were involved. Governor Davenport is undoubtedly not above accepting them.”

Father doesn’t deny it. “I see the weeks you spent reading improved your reasoning skills, Miss Paris.”

Her chin lifts. “My reasoning skills have always been on point, fuckwaffle.”

Must be the first time Father has been called that. It’s the only explanation for the mildly outraged, mostly baffled hesitation that fills the room: no one knows how to respond to an overt insult, because unlike subtle jabs and assassination attempts, in Father’s world they are not a thing. Eventually, after several awkward seconds, Vania steps forward and raises her hand to hit Serena.

I angle myself between the two of them, which in turn has Serena wanting to protect me. But Father puts a stop to that by ordering, “Let them be. We want them both intact, for now.”

Vania glares at Serena. At a flick of Father’s wrist, two of the guards come to stand next to us. The implied threat is crystal clear.

“I could have killed your friend, Misery. So many times. You know why I didn’t?” he asks me.

“To spare my feelings?” I answer, skeptical.

“That was a nice bonus, I agree. Because no matter what you may think, I do not enjoy hurting you, or taking things away from you. I was not happy to send my child off, although I doubt you’ll ever believe that. But ultimately, no, that was not the reason. I can only assume that Miss Paris neglected to tell you why I was forced to take her, then.”

“She didn’t have to tell me shit. I already know what happened.” But when I glance at Serena, her eyes dart away. And that’s when my stomach tightens. “She was working on an article,” I add, even though she won’t return my look. “And found out something she shouldn’t have.”

“So you really have no idea.” That complacent, self-congratulatory smirk, I want to punch it off Father’s face. “Let me enlighten you: several years ago, my dear friend Governor Davenport told me something he thought I might be interested in.”

“Of course the governor is in on it,” I sneer.

“Oh, you give him too much credit.” Father waves his hand. “He is in on it . . . sometimes. Over the years, I’ve gotten well acquainted with his mind. Thralling him, planting hooks in his brain, has become easier and easier. Practically traceless. He’s been giving me much useful information, some of particular intrigue. For instance, when he told me about a young child who had been born of Were and Human parents.”

Ana. Of course. The governor must have found out, perhaps from Thomas, or maybe from . . . I turn to Mick again. “Did you tell the governor?”

“Oh, no,” Father interrupts. “You are mistaken, Misery. Mick wasn’t part of this until very recently, and it was I who sought him out. I will take credit where it’s due, even if you’ll accuse me of being a heartless monster. It was my idea to use his son once we realized that the boy we had taken during a raid had ties to a prominent Were. It was easy enough for me to thrall him. He even helped with guarding Miss Paris.”

“What a thing to brag about, Father.”

“Indeed. But it was quite a while ago that the governor told me about the half-Were, half-Human child. Over two decades, in fact.”

I stiffen. A wave of dread sweeps over me.

“There had been stories before. Rumors of reproductive compatibility. If there’s something Humans are good for, it’s breeding.” Father stands, lips curled in mild disgust, and leisurely steps around his desk. “But the stories came from other countries, and there was never any proof. Here, Weres are insular, and Humans are cowards. Like Miss Paris said, they simply don’t interact enough. But this child was very young. They were not being raised by their biological parents for several reasons. They didn’t know about their origins or their questionable genetic makeup, but they appeared to have taken after their father. They presented as Human, fully, which I must admit, made them less interesting to me—the implication of their existence was much less concerning. And yet, the occurrence was unique, and I decided to monitor the situation. It felt like the wise thing to do.” He leans against his desk, drumming his fingers along the wooden edge. Something close to terror is beginning to stuff the inside of my throat. “Where could a Vampyre stow a half-Were child who presented as Human? Human territory appeared to be the best option. But how? It seemed like an impossible predicament. And that’s where I remembered that I, myself, had a child stashed away in Human territory. And that she might enjoy some companionship.”

My heart thumps loudly against the confines of my rib cage. I tear my eyes from Father’s and slowly turn to my right. I find Serena already looking at me. Her eyes are welling with tears.

“Did you know?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer. The tears, though, start falling.

“She did not.” It’s Father who responds, even though I’m rapidly losing interest in what he has to say. “I would know otherwise. Like I said, I monitored her for years. Even when your tenure as the Collateral ended, nothing that she did set off any alarms. In fact, she seemed to have no interest in Weres at all. Did you, Miss Paris?” He smiles at Serena, and the hatred in her glare could burn him as viciously as the sunlight. He ignores her and turns to me. “She was all about financial journalism, or something or other. I must say, our vigilance lapsed for a few years. The girl had grown into a promising, if very Human, young woman. Sometimes she’d disappear for a few days without warning, but that’s the youths. Carefree. Adventurous. I never suspected that it might have something to do with her genes. Until . . .”

“I despise you,” Serena hisses.

“I would expect no less. Human-Were hybrid that you are, you are well predisposed to, and I do not blame you. But the sloppy way you went about it when your Were half began emerging and you decided to research your parents, that certainly is your fault. You went around asking questions, stuck your nose into every nook and cranny of the Human-Were Bureau. You made it outrageously clear that something was changing in you, and that you were looking for guidance.” His tone is scolding. More than anything Father has ever said to me, it makes me want to punch him. “In hindsight, it all made sense. The fact that most of your trips and disappearances were timed with the full moon. You needed to be outside, didn’t you? The urge to be in nature became so irresistibly strong, you—”

“You know nothing,” Serena spits out.

“But I do, Miss Paris. I know your bloodwork was all over the place. I know your senses became almost unbearably acute, so acute that they exceeded your Human doctor’s ability to measure them. I know that you underwent genetic testing and the results came back as though the sample was contaminated—three times. I know that every full moon you felt like you needed to crawl out of your skin, and that one day you cut through the flesh of your forearm, just to see if your blood had turned green overnight. You were that far gone, suspecting that something inside you was very, very different.”

Serena’s jaw clenches. “How do you even—”

“Some of it I discovered once we started surveilling you assiduously. Most of it, you told me.”

“No. I would never.”

“But you did. When I thralled you, on the first day you got here.”

Serena’s mouth drops open, and the weight at the bottom of my stomach sinks heavier.

“I made sure you wouldn’t remember. You may have been thralled before by Misery, but like everything else about her culture, my daughter was never properly taught.” He appears amused by Serena’s horrified expression. “And you know what else you told me? You were, tragically, unable to find out who your own parents were, and to ascertain whether one of them was a Were. However, once you started digging and using your considerable investigative skills, you heard about Thomas Jalakas.

“Thomas was an interesting man. He’d been working for the Bureau some years earlier, had struck up a relationship with one of Roscoe’s seconds, and . . . I believe we all know how the story goes. Or maybe you don’t, Misery.” His eyes laser onto mine. “The Were woman became pregnant. Thomas, understandably, didn’t believe her when she told him that the child was his. The relationship ended, and career politician that he was, I doubt he thought about his former lover much in the following years. Instead, he steadily rose through the ranks. Then, about a year ago, he went back to the Human-Were Bureau, this time as director. The security clearance that came with it gave him access to several intelligence reports, and he grew curious about the fate of his former paramour. He searched for her name, and came across a very interesting picture.”

The most infinitesimal movement of Father’s finger, and one of the guards activates the monitor on his desk. She swipes the touch screen a few times, then turns it in my direction.

I recognize Maria Moreland from the picture in Lowe’s room. And Ana, who’s holding her hand, from some of the best moments in the last month of my life. They are sitting on the lakeshore, feet submerged in the water. It’s a candid photo taken from a distance, similar to something the Human paparazzo would produce. “The child piqued his interest. Earlier tonight you confronted Arthur Davenport, so I assume you already know how much the child resembles her biological father. Thomas now had very strong suspicions that hybrids were possible. So he decided to bring the knowledge to Governor Davenport.”

“And the governor had Ana’s father killed,” I conclude.

“Ana? Ah, Liliana Moreland. As a matter of fact, he did not. But he did recognize that the allegations could prove very dangerous. His solution, admittedly a poor one, was to remove Thomas from his position as the head of the Bureau and give him a far more prestigious one. Thomas should have been pleased. Instead, he became obsessed with finding out more about his daughter. He brought attention to himself, and several months later, word reached Miss Paris that someone else had been asking the very same questions she had been. When they set up a meeting, I finally knew I had to intervene.

“So, no, Misery. It wasn’t the governor who eliminated Thomas Jalakas. Or it was, but only in the sense that I thralled him to think that if he didn’t, his embezzlement peccadillos would be unearthed. Just like Emery and the Loyals were a convenient candidate for Lowe’s suspicions when we were forced to attempt to take Liliana. Mick was very helpful with that.”

“You weren’t forced to take Ana, or Serena. You chose to do it.”

He sighs, as ever let down by me. “Sometimes, we become more than who we are. Sometimes, we become symbols. And that’s something you should be well aware of, Misery. After all, you spent most of your life as a symbol of peace.”

“If anything, I symbolized the utter lack of trust between Humans and Vampyres,” I retort.

“People like Miss Paris here, and Liliana Moreland,” he goes on as if I never spoke, “are dangerous. All the more if they share the traits and talents of both their species. For now, neither of them is able to shift. But they might still transcend themselves and become important, powerful symbols of unity between two peoples who have been senselessly at odds for centuries.”

“And that would leave you defenseless in the region, and drastically reduce your influence,” Serena murmurs, icy cold. I wonder how she can be so calm. Perhaps I’m feeling both our angers. “Maddie Garcia won the Human elections, didn’t she? She knows she holds all the power, and she’s refusing to meet with you because of the way you’ve been puppeteering Governor Davenport for decades.”

“Miss Paris, I wish some of your political acumen had rubbed off. Maybe my daughter would stop looking at me as though I am a villain for acting in the interest of my people.”

“Oh, fuck off.” I glance around at his enforcers, hoping at least one of them is seeing the vileness of this. They remain statue-like and betray no emotions. “You didn’t put this through a vote. You didn’t inform anyone of your decision. Do you really think that most Vampyres, or even the damn council, would be okay with you going about killing and abducting people?”

“Our people are accustomed to a certain degree of comfort. Few of them bother wondering what goes into providing it.”

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Serena asks, as though our exchange is a pointless tangent. She’s not wrong.

“A difficult decision,” he concedes to her. “But as we know nothing about hybrids, you seemed of better use to me alive.”

“And yet you tried to kill Ana,” I snap.

The look he gives me is first puzzled—then half amused, half pitying. “Oh, Misery. Is that what you think? That it was Liliana who I tried to kill?”

I glance at Mick, confused by Father’s words, and his expression has turned into something compassionate that I simply cannot—

The loud knock at the door startles me. With the exception of Serena, the rest of the room is unsurprised. “Just in time. Please, enter.”

Another of Father’s enforcers comes in first. Right behind him is Lowe, eyes deep set and hooded, face stony. My throat knots a million times over, then sinks into my stomach when Owen follows him inside. His lips are bent in a shallow, enigmatic smile, and the reason is instantly obvious.

He has Lowe in handcuffs. Because Lowe is not here of his own free will. He glances around the room, taking stock of my father, of all the enforcers, of Mick. He doesn’t allow any feelings to seep through, not even when his oldest second, his father figure, bends his head in the customary salute. Then his eyes reach me, and for a split second I see every emotion in the observable universe pass through them.

After a heartbeat, we’re back to nothing.

My brain frantically tries to catch up. Did Owen lie about wanting to take over Father’s seat? Was his help with Serena a lie?

“Lowe.” Father’s voice is nearly welcoming. “I was waiting for you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Lowe replies. His deep voice reverberates in the large room, filling it in a way a dozen people hadn’t managed. “It appears you had a plan all along, Councilman Lark.”

“Not all along. You know, you are a very hard man to thrall. I tried during our only meeting alone, after the marriage ceremony. Usually I’ll be able to hook into a Were or a Human in a matter of seconds, but with you, it simply didn’t work. How frustrating.” He sighs and points to Mick. “I told myself that it didn’t matter. I had infiltrated your inner circle anyway. And yet, I still was unable to get my hands on your sister. And now that you’ve hidden her, I have been unable to find out where. I simply never managed to get any real leverage on you. Until now.” He smiles at Owen. “Thank you for bringing him to me, son. I certainly consider this proof of your loyalty.”

Owen’s eyes shine with pride. I clench my teeth. “Lowe is never going to give you Ana.”

“A month ago, I would have agreed with you. But Mick explained a few things to me. Including what his reaction to you at the wedding meant. The concept of mates.” Father comes to stand in front of me, one hand clasping my shoulder. “Your usefulness truly knows no bounds.”

“You are unbelievable.” I shake his touch away, disgusted.

“Am I?”

“Yes. And mistaken.” I lean forward, taunting him, suddenly powerful in the heartbreaking knowledge that he’s wrong. “I’m not Lowe’s mate. Whatever leverage you think you have, it’s not—”

“Is she not, Lowe?” Father asks, suddenly louder. He’s still holding my eyes. “Your mate?”

I stare back, waiting for Lowe’s answer, waiting to see the disappointment in my father’s eyes. Hoping it’ll make the one I experienced earlier tonight less bitter. But time ticks on by. And Lowe’s reply just temporizes, hangs back, hesitates, and never comes.

When I turn to him, he’s at once blank and profoundly, indelibly sad.

“Tell him,” I order. But he still doesn’t speak, and it feels like a slap to my face. My lungs seize, and suddenly I cannot breathe. “Tell him the truth,” I whisper to him.

Lowe runs his tongue over the inside of his cheek, and then presses his lips together in a small, sad smile.

Something inside me trembles.

“Now that it’s settled,” Father says dryly. “Lowe, Mick informs me that no one but you knows where Liliana is hidden. I want her—don’t worry, not to dispose of her. Just like I didn’t dispose of Miss Paris when I had the opportunity.” He stops to give Serena a small smile, as if expecting gratitude. I envision her spitting on him and being promptly murdered by three enforcers. “All I want is assurance that Humans and Weres won’t join forces against the Vampyres. And that starts with not giving them a reason to believe they’re more similar and compatible than they thought.” Father turns to Lowe one last time. “Make arrangements to hand over your sister.”

Lowe nods slowly. And then asks with a genuinely curious tone, “And I would do that, because . . . ?”

“Because your mate will request it.”

Lowe exhales a silent laugh. “You know my mate very little, if you really think she would request anything like that.”

Lowe doesn’t get a verbal response. Instead Father reaches forward. He moves so fast, the air shifts with momentum, and the next instant something cold, shiny, and very sharp appears next to my neck.

He’s holding one of Vania’s knives. To my throat.

Lowe, Owen, Serena—even Mick, they all attempt to reach for me, but are restrained by Father’s enforcers, and when the tip of the blade grazes my skin they stop at once, with equally terrified expressions on their faces. The silence that follows is overstrung, filled by loud heartbeats and heavy breathing.

“No,” Father says calmly. The hand holding the knife is steady. “In normal conditions, she wouldn’t ask. But what if she had to choose between her life or Liliana’s future? What then?”

“He’s bluffing. He’s not going to kill me,” I tell Lowe, hoping to reassure him.

He remains expressionless, and certainly doesn’t seem relieved. The opposite, perhaps. I wonder if he already knows what’s to come.

“Won’t I? I did have you poisoned. Oh, don’t make that face. Yes, the poison was for you. I was hoping that the pain of losing a mate would distract Lowe enough for me to take Liliana. But Mick mixed up the doses, didn’t he? It made me angry enough to take it out on his son. And after that, Lowe was smarter than to trust anyone.” He moves even closer, his eyes a dark purple that’s nearly blue. Whatever was left inside me that bound me to my family, already cracked and battered, finally splinters. “I have sacrificed you before, and I will do it again,” my father tells me. There is no remorse in him. No conflict. “For the good of the Vampyres, I will not hesitate.”

I laugh, full off disdain. “What a fucking coward you are.” I should feel cornered, but I’m just angry. Angry on behalf of Ana and Serena. Of myself. Angrier than I thought possible.

And then there’s Lowe, and the way he’s looking at me. His calm fear, like he knows that nothing about this could ever end well. Like he’s not certain what he’ll do with himself afterward.

I’m sorry, Lowe.

I wish we had more time.

“Watch your language,” Father admonishes lazily. The blade nicks my skin. The single purple drop of blood sliding down my neck has Lowe thrashing to free himself, but the restraints Owen put on him hold.

“You love to purchase the good of the Vampyres by paying with the lives of others, don’t you?” I taunt Father. “Only a coward would put others in front of himself.”

“I will leverage what I can.”

“Well, I won’t. I’m not going to ask Lowe to choose me over his sister.”

“But there is no need, is there?” Father turns to Lowe. “What do you think, Alpha? Should I murder her in front of your eyes? I hear that Weres who lose their mates can sometimes go insane. That there is no greater pain,” he adds with relish.

Don’t be in pain, I think, staring him in the eyes over the glint of the blade. Whatever happens, don’t be in pain over me. Just be with Ana, and draw, and go on your runs, and maybe think of me sometimes when you eat peanut butter, but don’t be in—

“Misery,” Serena’s voice interrupts my thoughts. And then she says something else, something garbled and nonsensical that my brain takes a second to untangle. The enforcers look at each other, equally confused. Father frowns. Owen tilts his head, curious.

But she’s not speaking in tongues. There are real words.

“He’s wrong.” That’s what Serena said. In our secret alphabet.

Without looking away from Lowe, I ask, “About what?”

“About whether I can shift.”

I don’t immediately understand. But the corner of my eye catches a burst of movement. Her hand. No—her fingers.

Suddenly, her nails are long.

Unnaturally long.

Newly long.

I take a deep breath, mind racing. “Very well, Father,” I say. I hold Lowe’s gaze, hoping he’ll get this. “Since you’re going to have to kill me, if I may have some last words with my mate.”

I swallow. Lowe’s several steps away from me, and his eyes are . . . It’s impossible to describe them. Not with words.

“Lowe. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. And I would never ask you to put Ana before me.” My voice is little more than a whisper. “And if you ever put someone else before her, I’d love you a little less. But when you see her next, since I probably won’t, will you give her a message from me? Tell her that she’s as annoying as Sparkles. And that . . . that thing she isn’t able to do? She shouldn’t be sad about it. Because she’ll grow into it. And she’ll definitely be able to do it by the time she’s twenty-five or so.”

Lowe stares at me, confused—until the meaning clicks for him. His eyes dart from mine to Serena’s, and I wish I had time to savor how incredibly wrong, and fucked up, and just odd this is: the two people who make up my entire universe, meeting under these ridiculous circumstances.

I hope one day the three of us will be able to laugh about this moment. I hope this is not the end. I hope that even if I’m not around, the two of them will be there for each other. I hope, I hope, I hope.

Serena nods.

Lowe nods.

Understanding runs through them like a current.

“Now,” Lowe whispers.

All of a sudden, Owen steps forward. In a lightning-quick moment, Lowe’s restraints are undone, and his body begins to shift. Contort. Merge and turn and transform. I turn to look at Serena and find that she’s doing the same—the perfect, blindsiding distraction that none of the guards saw coming. Nor Vania. Nor Father.

“What are you—” he only has the time to say.

Because two large, majestic white wolves fill the room. The noise of tearing flesh rises above the screams, and I watch the two people I love the most hold absolutely nothing back.