Page 21 of Night Fae
"I'm sorry," he whispered, so quietly only the werewolf could hear.
The blade descended in a perfect arc, severing the carotid artery with an assassin's precision. Blood sprayed across Zev's face, hot and metallic. The werewolf's eyes widened, then dimmed as life drained away in violent pulses.
It was over in seconds. A clean death. The only mercy Zev could offer.
He stood motionless, blade dripping at his side, as something vital inside him crumbled to ash. He couldn't look away from those empty eyes, from the face that reminded him of everything he'd lost, everything he'd failed to protect.
Everything he'd betrayed.
"Excellent," Lady Morvena's voice broke the silence. "Not your prettiest kill, but you haven't lost your touch."
Zev didn't respond. He didn't wish to exchange another word with that woman unless he had to.
"Come," his father said, placing a hand on Zev's shoulder. "You've earned the right to see your human."
Zev shrugged the man's hand off, but he followed Lord Darius out of the room. He'd earned his reward, earned it by doing something he could never undo.
And the worst part was he knew he'd do it again tomorrow.
CHAPTER 5
Blood never quite washed away like other stains.
Zev scrubbed his hands raw under the stream of icy water in the small washroom. No matter how many times he rinsed them, he still saw crimson beneath his fingernails—which was ridiculous. The way he'd carried out his kill, there shouldn't have been any blood under his fingernails.
But Zev couldn't stop seeing it there anyway.
"You're the one who ran with my pack."
The memory sliced through his mental defenses. Zev shut his eyes, forcing it away. He couldn't think about that now. Couldn't dwell on the young werewolf's face, on how his eyes had dimmed as life drained away. On how much he'd looked like?—
No.
Zev's stomach churned. He bent over the basin, certain he would be sick, but nothing came. He'd emptied himself in a shadowed corner shortly after leaving the execution chamber, his father pretending not to notice the weakness.
The Night Court had always excelled at strategic blindness.
Rage coiled beneath his skin, warring with disgust. If Malik hadn't been transported here, if Zev hadn't felt compelled to save him…
Zev wouldn't be back in his family's clutches. He wouldn't have another werewolf's blood on his hands. He wouldn't have just betrayed every promise he'd made to Rhys's memory.
All because of a human who had no business being in Veridia in the first place.
The thought was poison, bitter and unfair, but Zev couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop the resentment from flooding through him. Soon he would face Malik, and these emotions—this rage, this blame—they would spill out, toxic and venomous.
Unless he found some way to get himself under control.
Zev stared at his reflection, at the violet eyes that marked his heritage. His glamour had fallen away without his notice. When had that happened? During the execution? After?
Did it matter?
He was returning to his true fae self, step by step, and maybe that was the solution to his problem.
Zev closed his eyes and reached deep inside himself, past the grief and rage, reached for his cold, empty core that had allowed him to be Veridia's most deadly assassin for most of his life.
Feel nothing. Be nothing. Want nothing.
The mantra was still familiar, still comforting. He did nothave tohandle all these damn feelings he wasn't equipped to handle.
