Page 194 of Savage Throne
It never had been.
It washis.
My father had killed her. He’d taken her from me just like he’d taken everything else. And no amount of my guilt or rage would bring her back.
But this battle. . .it isn’t about Chanel anyway. I know that now. It’s not even about his killing Romeo or Yan. Not anymore.
Moni’s face flashed in my mind.
This is about protecting my new life.
I let out a slow breath and loosened my grip on Soaring Precious just enough to ease the tension in my hand. The rage that bubbled in my chest began to fade, replaced by something steadier, stronger.
I thought of Moni some more.
Her warmth, her strength, her unapologetic determination to stand beside me no matter what the odds. I thought of the way her voice softened when she whispered my name, the way her lips curved into a smile that could cut through even the darkest nights.
I didn’t need to fight for vengeance or guilt or ghosts anymore.
I needed to fight forher.
Forus.
Calm, I shifted my gaze to where my father stood beneath the Great White Blossom.
The tree was legendary, its branches heavy with pure white petals that never fell, no matter the season or weather. Tonight, the blossoms glowed faintly under the moonlight. Its massive white trunk stood firm, the bark smooth and pale as bone.
My father’s expression was one of triumph, his arms folded as he watched me with the arrogance of a man who believed he’d already won.
You think you got in my bed? Jokes on you, old man. I don’t care that you have Chanel’s body out here.
His gaze met my calm one and his expression faltered.
I won’t play your game.
I didn’t know what he saw in that moment, but I knew what I felt—peace and clear purpose.
There was no fury in my stance, no hatred in my gaze.
Just resolve.
His frown deepened, the cracks in his confidence spreading as he studied me.
I was sure he had expected me to crumble, to lose myself in the chaos he had created. Instead, he was met with the one thing he couldn’t understand—strength born not of fear or hatred, but love.
I’m my father’s son but I’m also my mother’s son too.
Then the crows came.
Hundreds of them—all midnight black feathers and sharp beaks.
They swooped down from the shadows of the night sky. Their harsh cries cut through the wind like jagged shards of glass.
First, they swarmed the tree, beating their black wings furiously.
I quirked my brows.
Then, one by one, the crows landed on the Great White’s branches until the pristine white of the blossoms was swallowed by the inky mass of their feathers, making the tree appear darkly foreboding.
