Everyone that Caayn talked to said Baldwin Porter was right there, in Asmute, the capital city of Janus. And yet, he’d not been able to find that bastard under any rock. It was with disappointment that Caayn was returning to the suite to tell Smyrna his efforts to find her man were fruitless.

This was the day they’d have to leave of the suite. He’d take her home, to his home, set her up in his household, and then he’d go hunting for Porter again.

His promise to find her man would be kept, but for now, they were slated to leave the suite, and there’d be more fanfare and the governor would probably be there to make sure he received credit for this successful union.

He pushed the cloak off his face as he came to the alley that led to the building their suite was in. He didn’t have to be undercover now, he could present his face, and if he ran into any well-wishers who were curious about what he was doing out and about, he’d tell them he was on an errand for his new bride. He’d make something up. Though technically, he was on an errand for her—just not the kind of errand one might expect a newly hand-fasted man to be on.

He took the moving stairs up to the room. They wound around and around, in a spiral, ever moving, until they’d reached the top floor. Once there, he took long strides to their room reached for his keycard, and put his hand on the handle.

He pushed the door open, a hesitant smile on his face, though he wasn’t sure how she’d take the bad news.

The scene that greeted him was the last he’d have expected to see.

Baldwin Porter was laying on the bed.

No.

Baldwin Porter was perched over Smyrna on the bed. His hand was over her mouth. Dried blood was on her forehead. Her eyes were wild.

Caayn froze.

This couldn’t possibly be her idea of a good time. She couldn’t be enjoying this sort of interaction with him. He paused, wondering if—

—the blazing infernos of Mount Araminath, there was no way he could condone this. No way at all.

He closed the door behind him with a swift move while launching himself toward Baldwin Porter, making it halfway, then pausing to take in the scene, to be certain his actions wouldn’t push Smyrna toward hating him.

Porter’s eyes widened, then his pupils dilated and a wicked smile came over his face. “I was tending to your bride’s needs.”

“You should respect the lady.” Caayn’s voice was barely above a low growl.

“Lady,” Porter scoffed, rising from the bed.

Smyrna’s robe was open, revealing bruises on her body and neck. She hastened to close it, trembling hands fumbling with the fabric. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but a cough erupted instead.

“I don’t know what the hell she sees in you.” Caayn frowned. “But I sure as hell don’t see it.”

He hurled himself toward Porter, clipping him in the shoulder, knocking him down. Porter grabbed Caayn, pulling him down with him.

Porter snarled at him, Caayn twisted, leapt to his feet and lunged for him again. Porter maneuvered to the left and rose to his feet, trying to land a punch at Caayn’s throat.

Caayn sidestepped, then was behind Porter. He wrapped his arm around Porter’s throat while he landed a kick at the back of his knees. Porter crumpled, then did a backward head butt and caught Caayn in the chest.

Porter threw a series of jabs and punches, connecting quite a few times with Caayn’s face and chest.

Caayn ducked, and delivered an uppercut. Porter’s head snapped backward, but he recuperated swiftly and with a low roar started toward Caayn, his head low, looking much like a charging bull.

Caayn braced himself just as Porter rose and lifted his arms.

Caayn never had a chance to find out what Porter’s next move would be.

A soft hiss sounded. Baldwin Porter’s eyes flew wide. Disbelief and shock crossed his face.

A crimson splash blossomed on his chest.

He collapsed.

Behind him stood Smyrna, the missing Pulser in her hand.

“Shit,” Caayn hissed.

She collapsed, falling to the carpeting before he could catch her.