“Wasn’t me,” he whispers, gasping for air. His unscathed right hand lifts—tries to grasp Nix’s arm—but Nix swipes it away.
“Was m’father.”
His father?
Nix hadn’t even known he had one—not that it mattered.
Tears mix with the blood on Hayes’s cheek, but Nix feels nothing. No sympathy. No pity.
Even if it were true, it was Hayes every step of the way—a macabre artist of cruelty, and Nix, his captive canvas.
But now? Now, all he sees is a pathetic, bloody shell of a man.
And Nix is done.
Done giving Hayes even one more second of his perfect life.
Straightening, he looks to the stands—to his pack.
Luca stands at the railing, Gideon’s arms wrapped tight around his chest, tears streaking his face.
Every one of his mates looks sad, fearful, exhausted.
And all Nix can think is that every second he spends here with Hayes is a second stolen from them.
His wolf surges forward as power threads through his voice, layering every word with finality. “Die slowly, Dawson Ulysses Haversham Hayes.”
Luca holds his hand to him, and Nix doesn’t spare one last look at the dying man.
There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’ll die from his injuries, but Nix realizes he doesn’t have to be there to see it.
He’s free.
“Mr. Rena,” Judge Patel says, and there’s no need for a microphone—the acoustics in the amphitheater ensure Nix hears the surprise in the judge’s voice. “It’s your right to give him what he deserves.”
“I know, ma’am. Don’t you think thatthisis what he deserves?”
The judge tilts her head, and her eyes flicker to the man bleeding out in the grass at the center of the arena.
“He’s defeated, alone, and unloved. There’s not one person here for him, and, ma’am, there are seven people here for me. I’m done.”
He doesn’t wait for the judge to respond.
Running toward his family, he jumps ten feet up into the stands—right into Jamie’s arms.
“I love you, Jamie Rhodes,” he murmurs, kissing him hard while all his mates circle around him and squeeze him tight.
“Love you too, baby boy. Ready to go home?” Jamie asks, relieved tears drying on his cheeks.
Grayson grabs him the instant Jamie is done and cries big, relieved sobs into Nix’s neck while Luca attaches himself to his back. Nix can feel hot kisses pressed against his shoulders, too.
“Hey, hey. Leave some for the rest of us. Come here and hug me, Nixie. I’m lonely,” Leo says, his voice breaking in the middle, though his embrace doesn’t falter.
Rowan wrestles him away from Leo, sniffing and licking at his neck and ears, snuffling into his hair. No doubt he smells of blood and Hayes’s fear.
“You smell terrible, Nix. Don’t do that again. But also—you totally kicked his ass. So hot.”
Nix laughs, overjoyed, because the feeling of freedom is almost euphoric.
