PROLOGUE
Prince Nikolai Diavolos hurried down the long corridor, his boots echoing off the stone floor and crunching over the smattering of loose sand. He’d watched them bring the human female onto his father’s estate, watched the Wardens drag her to the underground cellar, and he knew he could no longer be inactive. If he wanted the Revenant’s help to right the wrongs of the king, he had to earn their trust.
What better way than rescuing the captain’s mate?
“Who’s there?” the female called as he approached her cell.
Her voice remained even, despite the fear he smelled wafting from her cage. He admired her courage, but bravery alone wouldn’t save either of them.
Dressed in the uniform of the Coalition Wardens, Nikolai stepped into the circle of light created by a single, naked bulb. The human who met him on the other side of the bars was much smaller up close, the top of her head reaching only to his clavicles, but she held her shoulders back, her spine rigid.
“Roux Jennings?” Taking the black key from the keyring he’d lifted off one of the Wardens from his pocket, he stepped forward to insert it into the metal keyhole of the cell door.
Roux nodded, but took a step back, the chains around her ankles clicking when she moved. “Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am.” She’d never follow him out of the underground prison if he told her he was the son of the man who had done this to her. “We have to hurry.” Kneeling, he unshackled her ankles, dropping both the steel cuffs and the ring of keys to the cold, damp floor. “Let’s go. We have to warn Captain Collins.”
“If you plan to inform him that a group of Wardens are going invade the Square, it’s a little late. Been there, done that.”
He’d seen that carnage, and while it saddened him, they had much bigger concerns. “Worse,” he answered, “much worse. Now, come on, we have to go.”
Exiting the cell, he hurried back down the corridor, praying she’d be smart and follow him. By the time he reached the heavy steel door at the end of the hallway, he began to worry that her distrust and stubbornness would keep her planted inside her dank prison. Before he could decide whether or not to urge her forward again, or just grab her and carry her out, he heard her shuffle, pause, then call out to him.
“Shit. Wait up.”
Nikolai didn’t stop, but he slowed his pace as she jogged to catch up to him. Without a word, he led her through the metal door, up a flight of stairs, through yet another reinforced door, and out into the estate’s rear garden. Moonlight bathed the many fountains, its silvery beams sparkling in the flowing waters. Amber fairy lights illuminated other parts of the garden, providing a clear path to the back fence, but little in the way of cover.
“What the…” Roux mumbled behind him.
He didn’t know what had drawn her attention, and they didn’t have the time for him to investigate, either. “Hurry, they probably already know you’re gone.”
“Where the hell are we going anyway?” she demanded, but she didn’t slow, keeping pace with him as they navigated the sprawling maze.
“Through the garden and over the back fence. There’s a trail that will lead us to the Bastille.”
The dormitory-style building housed human refugees that had been caught wandering through Diavolos territory. When it had first been established, Nikolai had been astounded at his father’s generosity. The humans were given food, clothing, a warm place to sleep, and medical attention. Then, they’d be placed into jobs that befitted their skill sets, given one of the houses in town that had been abandoned after the Purge. For a while, things had been good.
Nikolai should have known it was too good to be true. He should have realized that Elias Diavolos never did anything purely out of the goodness of his heart. Hell, he didn’t even know if his father was even capable of goodness.
The king didn’t care about these humans. He only wanted to fill his stable with warm bodies that he could sacrifice to the Ravagers. That was what they had to tell the captain. That was why they needed to reach him.
“Are you sure about this?”
No, he wasn’t sure about anything, but he nodded anyway as he helped up her up the iron fence, following swiftly after her. “The guards don’t use the pathway after sundown.”
Likely because of the very same Ravagers, but he and Roux had no choice. They’d just have to chance it.
It had never occurred to him that his information could be faulty. So, when four Wardens swarmed them the moment their feet landed in the dirt, Nikolai hesitated, and that brief moment of shock cost both him and his companion dearly. Two guards—one female shifter and a male vampire—converged on Roux, crowding her on both sides while they held her by the elbows. Two other guards, both male, rushed Nikolai, shoving him to his knees while the one on the left pressed the cold barrel of a handgun to the nape of his neck.
“You aren’t having a very good day, are you?” the only female guard jeered, squeezing Roux’s upper arm and shaking her like a ragdoll.
“I’d say your captain is the one having a bad day.” Roux spoke and smiled pleasantly, as if conversing with an old friend, but her jade-green eyes held a world of hatred and malice. “That had to have been the shortest command post in history.”
“Trust me.” Leaning in until her lips brushed against the shell of Roux’s ear, the Warden chuckled. “Where you’re going, you’ll wish you were dead.”
The Warden wasn’t wrong, and Nikolai hated that he’d led Roux into this trap. He couldn’t save her, not now. Any move he made would only get them both killed. The best he could hope for was that Captain Collins would find his mate before time ran out, and she’d tell him what had happened here.
“Nikolai,” a deep, booming voice called from the shadows of the trees that lined the sandy path. “You were always such a disappointment to me.”
“Nikolai?” Roux whipped her head around to state at him, her eyes wide, her mouth agape. “Nikolai Diavolos? As in, the crown prince of the Diavolos family?”
Nikolai didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her, just stared straight ahead, watching as his father emerged from the darkness. Throughout his life, many people had told him he looked remarkably like his father. Nikolai grudgingly had to admit they were right. Though decades separated them, and his father’s honey-colored locks had grayed over the years, they had the same bone structure, the same dark eyes, and even the same smile.
Nikolai thought he might be sick.
Dressed in a well-tailored suit with a pair of shiny, black loafers, Elias Diavolos tucked his hand into the right pocket of his trousers and smirked. With his other hand, he motioned toward Roux with a dismissive wave.
He was enjoying this.
“Put her with the others. I’ll deal with my son.”
Slow and deliberate, making sure that Nikolai caught his every action, he moved his hand from his pants to the breast pocket of his jacket, where he produced a single pair of pliers. At the same time, the two guards flanking Nikolai holstered their weapons. One fisted a hand in his hair, jerking his head back, while the other gripped his jaw to force his mouth open.
“You’ve tested me for the last time,” the king commented, strolling forward as he rolled the pliers in his hand, watching the moonlight gleam off the shiny metal. “This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”
“No! Stop it!” Roux jerked and twisted, trying to free herself from her captors.
“It’s okay.” Nikolai, on the other hand, didn’t struggle. He was sorry for what waited for her, but he no longer cared what horrors his father inflicted on him. If Roux could find a way to warn her mate, it would all be worth it. “It doesn’t matter what he does to me.”
“Get her out of here!” the king barked.
Pausing to collect himself, he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as his lips curled at the corners once more. He bent, bringing the pliers to Nikolai’s mouth and clamping them around his right fang.
“At the risk of repeating himself,” his father mused, “this really is going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”