“I’ll kill you.”

Grayham. Grayham was standing behind her. Slowly, feeling like her world had fallen apart, she turned on her heel. Immediately after seeing the three figures in the doorway, bile rose in her throat. Not just Grayham was standing there, but Alasdair and Gwen. The tall blonde was cowering behind the men, watching the scene with wide, nearly satisfied eyes.

Blaine took her hand, holding it in the folds of her skirts. She gracefully maneuvered herself in front of Saeran, a cool smile coming over her face. As if it had never been there, the remorse and fear cleared from her face. She saw the Blaine she had known her whole life—the haughty, impulsive woman who had too much confidence for her own shoulders.

Now, though, Saeran knew something she hadn’t before.

That was not the real Blaine.

“My lords,” she greeted. It was as if she didn’t notice that they looked as murderous as angry bulls. Saeran tried to move back, but Blaine squeezed her hand, a silent warning. Her heart started to race, mind reeling.

“You’re a god damn whore,” Grayham shouted. He flew forward, his fist raised. Before she could react, Blaine threw Saeran out of the way. The only thing that saved her face from meeting the swing of his fist was the skirts that tripped her. She stumbled back, throwing her arms out to catch herself.

“There she is,” Gwen said to Alasdair, pointing to Saeran. “The bitch who killed your son!”

Like a dog who had been given a bone, Alasdair came at her. There was no blade this time. Kane’s training came to mind, and she waited until he was almost to her. It wasn’t until the last minute that she whirled out of his way, and threw her elbow out. It caught him on the side of his face, knocking his head to the side. That one movement nearly brought her to her knees. The pain was drowned by the rush of adrenaline.

She might not be as strong as him, but she did have speed and surprise as an advantage.

Too bad for her, he recovered quickly, throwing himself at her. He took her to the ground, his fist raised. It slammed into her jaw. From beside her, Blaine shrieked with pure outrage. Saeran laid there, dazed, fighting her mind’s dumbfounded reaction to the hit. He came in again, this time putting his hand on her abdomen to hold her down, his large hand slamming into the other side of her face.

All of the knowledge she had on self-defense left her. She forgot about Blaine, about Alasdair. The only thing she could focus on was the black splotches entering the corners of her vision and the searing agony rushing to the center of her body. The black dots became cluttered, until they were completely blocking her vision.

She couldn’t…pass out. Not this time. She had to fight, she had to get them to safety. Pure determination was the only thing that gave her the mental strength to fight off the unconsciousness. As soon as her eyes were blinking open, a weight was lifted off of her.

A blur moved over her.

Blaine.

She had managed to throw Grayham away from her, and had lunged for Alasdair.

“What did I tell you?” she shouted, slamming her hand at an upward angle at his nose. He roared, falling back. “You don’t touch her. I told you, over and over again, not to touch her.”

“She killed my son!” he bellowed. Saeran pushed herself weakly to her feet, wobbling. Nay. Nay, she couldn’t become weak right now. She had…to help Blaine. A rough cry of pain escaped her lips as her stomach twisted. He’d done more than put a hand on her, she realized. He’d dug his fingers into the wound and pulled, worsening it. All of the stitching that had been done was now pulled apart.

Through her pain, she became aware of the other people. Blaine seemed to have a hold on Alasdair, but Gwen was creeping along the way, eyes glued to Saeran. The hate in them was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Gwen darted through the fray, past a waking Grayham, and came at her.

“You stole him from me,” she hissed, grabbing Saeran by her hair. “I was going to be his bride. I was going to have his children. You stole him from me.”

Saeran wrapped her hands around the woman’s wrists, trying to alleviate the pressure, but Gwen wrenched harder. “I don’t know how I did that,” she gasped.

“I was the one he loved!” she hissed. “The hemlock was for you. I was going to get rid of you and the two of us would have been happy. I heard what you two were talking about. I told Alasdair and Grayham so they would kill you, but you—but you just—”

Her angry rant cut off, and the pressure fell. Blaine stood over her, staring down at the dazed woman she’d hit. “I never liked her much,” Blaine said, wiping a hand over her face. “She was always acting like a spoiled harlot.”

Gwen slumped to the floor. Blaine reached down, taking Saeran’s hand and pulling her to her feet. Like a mother would hold their child, Blaine brought Saeran to her chest and breathed slowly.

“We need to leave,” Saeran rasped, pulling back. She thought she had the strength to hold herself up, but as she began tumbling backward, she misjudged. Blaine grabbed for her, steadying her. “Kane will—”

“It’s too dark out. I’m not entirely sure where we—Saeran.” Everything happened so fast. The only thing Saeran could register was being thrown away, into the wall, and Blaine’s agonized scream. A sick, cold feeling went through her, just as a hand grabbed her, jerking her down.

Alasdair growled in her ear, “Two Sinclair bitches dead.” He wrapped a hand around her throat, blocking her view of Blaine.

She heard the sobbing. The uncontrollable sobs—the gasps of pain. They rung in the air like a bell…then it all ended.

Nay, it didn’t end. It was overcome. The unholy roar that sounded throughout the room was louder than Blaine’s sobs and Saeran’s gasps for air.

It was Kane.

Before the bellow had finished, Alasdair’s weight was lifted, once again, from her body. She sucked in as much air as her lungs would let her, clawing at her throat. The spots were back, and no matter how hard she told herself to get rid of them, they wouldn’t leave. Saeran rolled onto her side in time to see Kane throw his sword aside.

Then he lunged for Alasdair. He growled words too low for Saeran to hear, then took his uncle by the head and wrenched it to the side. The man fell lifelessly to the ground.

Kane stormed his way to her, sliding a hand under her neck. “That bastard,” he growled. His eyes were trained on her cheeks and neck, and the blood staining her shirt, an even darker red than before.

“Kane,” she rasped, pushing him away from her. “Kane—no.”

Grayham was standing directly above him, murder in his eyes. Kane didn’t react at all, except to give her a swift kiss on the lips. Then he slowly turned away from her.

As the two men stared at each other, she became aware of the silence. The dead, still silence. It wasn’t the fact that Kane and Grayham weren’t talking, but she couldn’t hear Blaine. Hysteria wracked her just as strongly as her sobs attacked her. Using the last of her strength, she crawled her way to Blaine.

She was still. Blood was seeping from her stomach, and her eyes were dead, even though soft breaths still left her lips.

“It’s gone,” Blaine whispered.

“No,” Saeran said, reaching for her sister with a trembling hand. Blaine only stared at it as she lay on her back, hands cover her stomach, tears streaming down her cheeks. “No, it’s not. Neither are you. Blaine—”

“Saeran, don’t do that. I’ve always hated the whining.” The soft teasing was lost on her. She shook her head, gathering Blaine against her. She pushed her sister’s hands aside and frantically looked around, for anything that she could use to stem the floor of blood.

“Saeran…”

“No,” she snapped. “No. No this isn’t—this isn’t happening. I swear to God, Blaine, if you…if you die, I will—”

* * *

Saeran’s sobbing was the only thing on his mind. Not the retribution he should be exacting for his sister’s murder, but the sobbing. Grayham, the man who he had been dying to kill for ages, was now in front of him. It would take him hours to go through all the things he wanted to do to the son of a bitch for killing Annalise, but Saeran needed him. He cold-cocked the bastard and watched as he fell next to Alasdair. With a growl, he grabbed him by the head. Just as he had done with Alasdair, he wrenched his head to the side.

He collapsed to the ground without another sound.

Dreading the sight he was going to see, he turned around—and was right. He hadn’t wanted to see it. His heart shattered at the sight of Saeran, kneeling and clutching her sister.

Blaine met his eyes.

“Kane…the king lied. To you.”

He froze. Her voice was raspy and weak, but he had heard the words as clear as day. He knelt beside her, wishing he knew what to do with Saeran. She was rocking and sobbing, mumbling incoherently, while Blaine had her eyes locked with his.

“The king lied about your family. They…have been dead, for a very long time.” Blood started to seep out of the corner of her mouth.

“Nay, they—”

“Please, listen to me. The Campbells…were the ones who hunted them down and killed them. The King told me all of it. He wanted you to marry me to alleviate his guilt in all the lies he’s told you.”

“No, no, no,” Saeran moaned, clutching her sister.

“And he wanted Saeran to be the one left to Grayham?” He ignored Saeran, furious and hurting. Some part of him had known, in the back of his head, that there was no way his family could still be alive.

“Yes. He…didn’t know of my plan to kill you. But Kane…You must protect Saeran. You cannot let her be on her own. She needs…you.”

“I need you,” Saeran cried, her frail body shuddering. Blaine’s glassy eyes roamed over her sister’s face.

“Just…take care of my father. That’s all I ask. You can hate me all you want, but he’s an innocent. He’s old…he needs help.”

Saeran’s sobbing grew louder, until it was ringing in his ears. “Kane, don’t let her go—don’t let her—she can’t. She’s not…she…I know the real her. She needs to stay alive. Her bairn—”

“Love…” He took her arm, gently pulling her back. Her tears were ripping him apart, and there was nothing he could do. Her bloodied hands pushed him away. She was inconsolable, and he well understood the loss she was feeling.

“I’m sorry…”

“No,” Saeran screamed. The sound ripped through the room as surely as her heart was tearing in two. “No, please. Blaine—Blaine, I love you. Don’t leave me—no, no, no,” she moaned. “You can’t go. You can’t. No.”

She took her sister’s hand, holding it to her heart. Kane grit his teeth together, turning his head away. Nothing would make this better for Saeran, and he couldn’t watch her destroy herself. It wasn’t until Blaine’s wheezing breath ceased that Saeran collapsed against his chest.

The terrible, gut-wrenching sound that left Saeran’s throat killed him…but it was all over. As he stared around him, taking in the bodies of the men who would have killed his woman and he, Kane realized that it was all over.

All. Over.