The kitchen was dark, nothing but the moonlight filtered through the thin curtains to light the way, but neither of us needed it. I locked the door, then went to the block of knives, pulling out the largest one. I stared at my reflection in the blade. My eyes were wild. I looked like I’d lost my mind.

I was planning to fight hunters with a butcher knife.

To protect Cyrus.

Yeah, safe to say I’d gone completely insane.

Cyrus leaned against the fridge, arms folded over his chest. “What makes you think I need you to protect me?”

“Because this isn’t the first time you’re running from hunters. I could stand back and let you handle them yourself if you’d like?” I inclined my head as he silently stared at me. “I didn’t think so. They know me. They might hesitate to attack.”

His lips curved. “You’ll use the trust you’ve earned against them.”

“I will do whatever it takes to keep that little boy safe.” I tightened my grip on the knife. Footsteps sounded outside the door. “If that wasn’t obvious by now.”

The door opened. I kept close to it as a man slipped into the room. Not a hunter, but I’d known that the minute I’d heard him coming. I wouldn’t get that much notice.

He had one of the girls who’d been sold in his arms. She whimpered and struggled against him.

I pulled her free. Covered his mouth with my hand.

And punched the knife into his chest.

His eyes widened. He clawed at my arm as I twisted the knife, wrenching it under his ribs. They splintered. I withdrew the knife. Stabbed it into the wall by his head.

Then reached into his chest to rip out his heart.

It hit the floor with a meaty splat. I let him fall and looked at the girl as I licked his blood off my fingers.

She swayed, one hand on her throat.

“Get out of here. Tell anyone you find that you’ve seen me.”

A quick nod and she bolted out the back door.

Cyrus frowned at me. “Why the fuck would you want them to know where you are?”

More shots rang out. Running, down the hall, away from the kitchen. I lifted my shoulders, cleaning the rest of the blood on the dead man’s expensive jacket. “Either they’ll come to fight alongside me or they won’t bother with this room, assuming I’ve got it covered. You got a better plan?”

His jaw hardened.

“Didn’t think so.” I crossed the room, glancing out the back door. The girl had made it halfway across the yard. Shadows shifted and two hunters approached her. She screamed, holding her hands over her head. Dropped to her knees.

One hunter gave her a hard shake. She nodded and pointed back the way she’d come.

I held my breath. Please don’t make me kill you.

There were two of them. My chances weren’t good unless I caught them off guard. If they split up, I was completely fucked. Hunters who worked together often shared a bond. They’d feel the death of the other. A calm hunter was nearly impossible to defeat. One bent on revenge?

The second hunter looked over. Caught my eye.

Gave a small salute with his gun.

I nodded. Backed away from the door as they helped the girl to her feet and faded into the dark woods.

“They’re distracted by the girl.” Cyrus moved to my side, his voice low. “If we leave now—”

“The six hunters you didn’t see will be on us before we take one step past the door. They’ll kill you without asking questions. Then wonder why I let you live.” I ground my teeth, listening to the chaos in the hall. “We need to find another way out.”

The screams grew louder. Smoke seeped under the door.

The hunters were burning the mansion.

“Thanks for the heads up, assholes.” Rubbing a hand over my face, I looked out over the yard again. Glass shattered as flames burst from the ballroom windows. Heat spilled in waves across the doorway. Another explosion from the other side of the house.

This place was a deathtrap, but the lawn might as well be a shooting range. I slammed my fist against my thigh. A ‘behind door number three’ would be nice. A mansion like this had to have a wine cellar. Those were usually attached to kitchens, weren’t they?

The kitchen had several huge sinks, a massive fridge and stove, and a dozen cupboards with glass doors. A large farmhouse style table took up the center of the room. There were only two doors that I could see. The one into the hall and the one that led out.

Cyrus stepped up to the wood-paneled wall beside the fridge and pushed. The wall clicked. He pulled it open. “I could use a drink as well, but not sure that will save us from roasting. Have we given up already?”

“No. Just fucking get in there.” I slid the knife under my belt and followed him, tempted to push him down the stairs when he smirked at me. Was this part of his fucking game? I had to save him, but he wouldn’t help at all? This man was going to drive me out of my mind.

“I do try.” He said in a dry tone as he flicked on the lights at the bottom of the stairs. He turned the corner and let out an appreciative sound. “Chateau Lafite Rothschild—she remembered how much I love it. How sweet of her.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I rubbed my arms, the chill of the room surrounding me as I searched for anywhere the fire might get in. The smoke wouldn’t be a problem, and the walls and ceiling were covered with smooth stone, which should create a barrier.

With any luck, the mansion would collapse and the hunters would assume Cyrus had burned up inside. They wouldn’t check the remains. They never did. I always wondered if they hoped some of their prey would escape, giving them the excuse for another hunt. They never seemed too concerned about the lives they saved.

Their success was measured by the body count of the monsters. Cyrus might be one of the worst, but to them, he was just another number.

“You haven’t seen a corkscrew, have you?”

Turning slowly, I blinked at Cyrus, my lips moving soundlessly before I finally got the words out. “Seen a…” I strode up to him and knocked the bottle out of his hand. It smashed against the stone wall. “You arrogant son-of-a-bitch! Is this all a game to you? You don’t care if you live or die? Why bother threatening Alrik then? Why force me to stay with you?”

Glancing over at the broken bottle, Cyrus sighed. “I don’t value life, I value power. When you have power, you don’t need anything else. I don’t have to care, because you do.” He lifted his head, his gaze slicing through me like an icy sliver of glass. “Having power over you entertains me, keeps me alive, satisfies my every need. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

“You have no fucking clue what that word means.” I fought the urge to back up as Cyrus continued to stare at me. “Love isn’t selfish. It’s not something you take, it’s something you give. And not something either of us will ever have.”

His brow rose. “Don’t you love the boy?”

I ground my teeth. “More than anything. But I don’t expect his love in return. He hardly knows me. And I almost killed him.”

He inclined his head. “Fair enough. But Elah loved you. He loved you enough to force you to be strong, to try to protect you until the moment he died.”

Inhaling roughly, I swallowed against the fist that closed around my throat. Around my heart. I hadn’t had a moment to mourn the hunter and I didn’t have time now. But Cyrus’s words had me seeing his face again.

Not as he’d been bound and bloody. Not trapped in that cell with me, wasting away.

I remembered him laughing when Daederich knocked me down during sword training, one of the rare times he’d stuck around after a hunt. He’d hauled me to my feet and positioned himself against my back.

Then he’d whispered in my ear.

“You’re anticipating the blow and that’s slowing you down. Absorb it the way you would a punch. Don’t tense up. Prepare to keep moving, as if the impact is nothing but a cue to change directions.” He nodded for Daederich to attack as he had before. Guided me to block, then stopped me before I could avoid the practice sword connecting with my side. He drew my arms up, exposing my body when I would bend to cover where I’d been hit and laid the sword along Daederich’s throat. “If you were mortal, the blade slicing you open could have killed you, but you’re not. See how he followed through? He left himself open, giving you the opportunity to deal the killing blow.”

“If he was using a real blade the pain would slow me down.”

“Don’t let it. If his blade was real he’d have sliced you in half while you were reacting to the pain. Ignore it and you still have a chance to live.”

Daederich shook his head, glancing down at the wood blade he still held against my stomach. “She should have protected herself—not let me get this close.”

“True, but no matter how skilled you are, there’s always someone better. Someone who can break through your defenses.” Elah pressed his lips to my hair, a rare tender gesture. And for the first time, Daederich didn’t growl at him or act all possessive. His focus was on Elah’s words. “Survival depends on your next move. Every one should be made as though it might be your last. Pain isn’t a sign of defeat. It’s telling you that you’re still alive. That you still have the strength to fight.”

I’d said something like that to Cyrus once. While he was torturing me.

Pain is a sign that you’re still alive.

Elah’s death hurt. Fuck, it hurt. And it always would.

Because I was alive to feel that pain.

That pain wasn’t a weapon Cyrus could use against me. He was trying, I knew he was. Not to kill me, but to keep me down. To maintain his power over me.

Which he wouldn’t need to do if he’d ever really had it at all. But I was still fighting. Surviving. Still had one more move.

“Elah would have ended me if I’d asked him to. He didn’t because my life has one purpose. And now your life is no different.” I laughed and shook my head. “We’re all here for that little boy.”

Cyrus’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Without him, you have nothing, Cyrus.” I rolled my shoulders, glancing over to the corner as smoke began to spill into the room. There was no way to block it, but hopefully not seeing flames meant the fire above couldn’t reach us. “Maybe the power really belongs to him.”

“If he had any power, he wouldn’t need you to give your life for him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t.”

“Then kill me, Lydia. End my life and free yourself.” Cyrus spread his arms wide and took a step toward me. “I won’t even try to stop you.”

I palmed the blade, so fucking tempted to take him up on his offer. I’d already lost so much, but maybe I was fooling myself. This ‘sacrifice’ might be my way of telling myself I still mattered. That my life had a purpose.

Even at my lowest point, I’d convinced myself to keep going because Alrik needed me to. But he had Vince to protect him. Both his guardians would fight for him until he was old enough to fight for himself. Could I really keep living this pathetic shadow of a life, keep letting Cyrus amuse himself by calling me his pet, on the chance that it might make a damn difference?

“Do it, Lydia.” Cyrus took another step. “If your life has no purpose, maybe all you have left is my death. You’ve always wanted to be the one to kill me.”

“Don’t tempt me, Cyrus.”

“Why not? It’s what I’m good at.” His lips curved as I brought the knife to his throat. “Think of all those I’ve tortured. All the lives I’ve taken. You could avenge them right now.”

I could. I should.

But I couldn’t do it.

Why the fuck can’t I do it?

My mind was so fucked up, I couldn’t stand to look at Cyrus anymore. He’d even reminded me why I’d been obsessed with making him pay for all the horrendous things he’d done. But all I could see was him caring for me after Rosali used my worst nightmares against me. How he’d tried, in his own twisted way, to give me an escape from the hell of my new life.

She’d become the real monster. And I wasn’t quite sure what he was.

The door opened and I pressed my eyes shut as black smoke spilled into the room. The hunters had come. They could kill him and I’d never have to admit he’d made me so weak I wasn’t even sure if I wanted them to. All I knew was that I couldn’t.

I lowered the blade.

“Lydia!”

Cyrus’s shout brought my eyes open just as my head was wrenched back. Nails raked into my scalp. I gasped as a hand closed around my throat.

“You never seem to die. No matter what happens, you’re always there, every time I turn around.” Rosali’s lips brushed my cheek. She held me tight against her, the sweetness of her perfume even more suffocating than the cruddy smoke filling the room. “Maybe you’re waiting for me?”

“Release her, Rosali.” Cyrus cut across the room too fast for my eyes to follow, letting out a low growl. “She is mine.”

A smash and Cyrus hit the wine rack. He covered his head as the bottles above tumbled down on him. Wine spilled over his face, mixed with blood.

Rosali giggled. “Look at the mess you’ve made!”

“Enough!” Cyrus pushed to his feet, crushing glass under his palms. “I’m not playing with you.”

“That’s a shame, because we’ve always had so much fun.” Rosali’s grip tightened on my throat as I struggled to free myself. “That ended when you found her the first time, but when you called me I thought…” She rested her head on my shoulder, releasing my hair. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t get to replace me. Not again. Everything you have, everything you are, belong to me.”

Cyrus shook his head and laughed. “If not for me you would have wasted away within a decade. You were so sweet and innocent, so helpless. You owe me for making you strong enough to survive.”

“It’s cute that you think that. That you believe I didn’t know exactly what a monster like you would want from a delicate little thing like me.” Rosali turned me with her as Cyrus began to circle us. “You were a little boy who liked pulling the wings off butterflies, who grew into a man with much more twisted desires. There was always something dark inside you. Something I desired.”

The smoke thickened. Ash filled the air along with the heavy scent of wood and fabric and flesh burning. The panel door in the kitchen had been left open, weakening our last line of defense.

But neither Rosali or Cyrus seemed to care. They apparently had a lot of catching up to do.

“You never had me.” Cyrus’s lips slid into a mocking smile. “All you could do was watch as I became everything you wanted to be.”

“Because you have power? Because people fear you?” Rosali tilted her head to one side, her nails digging into my throat. “I have all of that. And I have men and women willing to give their lives just to see me smile. No one has ever loved you, Cyrus. No one but me. You truly are the saddest story of a broken man, living for eternity without the one thing we all crave.” Her eyes sparkled with cold joy. “The killer has daddy issues. It’s so gloriously cliché.”

“Shut up.”

“Why? Have I hit a nerve?”

“No, you’re irritating me.” Cyrus wiped a sleeve over his face, then straightened his jacket. “And your jealousy is rather pathetic.”

“Jealous? Of her?” Rosali slashed her nails across my throat, choking me again before I could cry out. “This is nothing but revenge.”

Her hand tightened, crushing my windpipe, tearing at the broken flesh of my neck. The pain blinded me, flashes of black and white, throbbing across my eyes as my skin ripped open. I clawed at her hand. Her grip never loosened. Blood filled my throat. Soaked through my shirt.

Cyrus lunged into Rosali, knocking her away from me. I hit the stone floor hard, covering the gaping wound on my throat to staunch the blood. I’d lost so much. Taken too much damaged to rise. The flames were closer. The smoke rushing over me burned.

Rosali screamed, throwing Cyrus toward the flames billowing down the stairs. He caught himself on the railing. She pulled a small knife from under her sleeve and threw it at him. He ducked, but the blade sliced his cheek open before impaling the stone wall behind him.

Reaching back, Cyrus grabbed the knife, but before he could free it, Rosali was on him. His back hit the wall and he grunted as she tore into his throat with her fangs.

He shoved at her, but she’d locked onto him, slowly draining him even as the burning cinders rained down on them, catching in her hair. Tears trailed down her cheeks as the fire ate at the long, glistening black waves until nothing was left but a blazing halo. Her beautiful dress flared up, and still, she clung to Cyrus.

She lifted her head, her once smooth flesh blistered and raw, the fire surrounding them both as she kissed his lips. “You were always a monster. A terrible beast who was exquisitely cruel. The nightmare I’d given the world.” She shuddered as the flames destroyed her dress and caught more of her skin. “You were mine when all this began. And you’ll be mine as it ends.”

Tipping his head to the side, Cyrus caught my gaze. “Go…you have to get out.”

I dragged myself to my feet, hanging on to the edge of the broken wine rack. The room spun, but my throat was healing. I’d be weak, but if I had enough blood to heal, I had enough to keep moving.

Not up the stairs, there was no way I’d get through that fire.

There had to be another way.

Cyrus let out a rough sound of pain. The flames were around him, licking at his jacket, but slowly, as though controlled by his many victims who’d want to make his final, agonizing moments last.

I’d have wanted that too, once.

But he’d just saved my life.

Striding up behind Rosali I jerked her fiery body off him, burning my hands, jumping when she turned her head, her hollowed out eyes seeming to stare at me. She wasn’t dead yet. It wouldn’t be long, but her still moving with her skin sizzling and her bones breaking through charred flesh would haunt me for the rest of my life. I shuddered, wiping the oily substance that slicked her remains from my blistered hands before grabbing Cyrus’s jacket and tearing it off him. The fire had burned through it, leaving angry red patches on his chest. Half of his face was smeared with black, but I couldn’t tell if he’d been burned there as well.

I threw his arm over my shoulder and dragged him toward the other end of the wine cellar, which cut off abruptly into a short hall. At the other end was a room with a high table and two stools. The room was lit by candles in several sconces along each wall.

And a skylight that glowed like the sun was blazing orange in the sky, much too close. Looking through it I could see the whole mansion burning, an inferno reaching up into the sky.

I lowered Cyrus to the floor and grabbed the table, moving it under the skylight so I could reach it.

Cyrus stared at me as I climbed up on the table. “Why?”

“Why what?” I punched the glass. Winced. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Why the fuck didn’t you let me burn?”

Shaking my head, I bent down and picked up one of the chairs, using it to splinter the thick glass. “I don’t know.”

The glass burst inward. A man leaned through the hole, holding out his hand.

“Take him first!” I hopped off the table, forcing Cyrus to his feet. Once he was on the table, the man pulled him out, then came back, latching on to my wrist. I gasped in the fresh air as I collapsed on the grass.

Then sat up abruptly at the smooth glide of metal.

“I know you…” The man shook his head, glaring at Cyrus, then shooting me a confused look. “And you’re Lydia, right? Some of us agreed to stay and look for you. Your man is injured. The elders had to force him to leave.”

“He’s not my man.” I gritted out the words, but my chest lightened just knowing Daederich was still alive. We’d lost what we’d once had. Maybe it was never real at all. But the idea of him being out there, somewhere, comforted me.

The hunter shook his head. “That’s none of my business. But we thought this one was dead.” He lifted his sword. “Now he will be.”

I rushed the hunter, catching him off guard. His sword slipped from his grip as his back hit the ground. I did my best to pin him down. I had to move fast. I didn’t have the strength to fight him once he gained his bearings.

We rolled in the grass. He knocked my hand away from his sword. I kneed him in the balls and he grunted, trying to push me off him. Feeling through the grass, I tried to find his sword. My fingers brushed a large rock and I grabbed it, cracking it into his skull.

He went still and I bowed my head. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I didn’t want to kill him. He’d helped me. But the blow to the head wouldn’t keep him down long. I needed time to get Cyrus to safety, especially now that I knew there were other hunters still around, searching for me.

Standing, I looked for the sword. Held it with both hands, aiming for his heart.

Don’t do it, Lydia.

Tears blurred my vision. I blinked them away.

A severe wound will slow him down. Cyrus isn’t worth another life.

My breath locked in my throat as the blade pierced his chest. Cutting into his heart. Hopefully not doing enough damage to end him, but enough to put him out of commission for a while. The other hunters would have to find him before the sun rose. He had a good chance.

A much better one than I did if they saw me now.

Fishing through his pockets, I found some car keys attached to a starter. Stuffing them into the pocket of my jacket, I returned to Cyrus, who lay crumpled on the ground, unconscious. I cursed as I did my best to drag him through the grass, toward the end of the parking lot. If the hunter’s car wasn’t here, I could steal another, but I wasn’t that great at hotwiring.

I pressed the button on the starter. Lights went on nearby. A black SUV. Big and not the least bit inconspicuous, considering most of the residents in the area likely drove expensive cars, but maybe the hunters still lingering wouldn’t stop us, assuming the driver must be one of their own.

Lifting Cyrus onto the backseat, I glanced back at the mansion, wondering why the fire department hadn’t shown up yet. The next house was some ways down the road, but with all that smoke, someone should be here by now?

Didn’t matter. I climbed into the driver’s seat, wrapping my hands around the steering wheel, a vision of Daederich by my side reminding me of when he’d taught me how to drive again. Or for the first time, I didn’t know which. For such a hard-ass, he’d been a very patient teacher. And he’d had so much to teach me. There’d been so much I’d forgotten how to do on my own.

How could he be the same man who’d betrayed me and Elah? I hadn’t let myself question what Cyrus had told me, the anger had been part of what kept me going. But I wasn’t trapped anymore, not really. Not if I accepted that I wasn’t the only one who could protect Alrik. The only reason I was still with Cyrus was because of some fucked up sense of gratitude.

I knew that, but I still pulled out onto the road, considering the best place to hide Cyrus while he healed. And I still hated Daederich, which made no sense.

Only…I had to hate him. Because if I didn’t, it would be too easy to love him again. To wish he was with me. To miss him.

To remember the look on his face when Elah died.