My mind conjures Aidia’s face, and I almost open the door and let them run.
But this is what I do. I punish men who think they can hurt women without repercussions.
The surprise on their faces is so typical. Men are always shocked when they meet resistance to their plans. Comfort has made them all complacent.
I have no such luxury. I was very young when I learned not to expect any softness from life. Violence came for me the way it does for all women. It hunted me, and I let its blade whittle me into something too sharp to touch—so that no man could bleed me without getting bloodied too.
“Are you so weak you won’t turn and fight this beast?” I taunt.
Over Stefan’s shoulder, Henry and the Drained are circling each other.
I need these two idiots away from the door so I can let Gaven in to handle the Drained. I don’t want to show Henry his magic. That was asecret we were keeping as long as we could, but desperate times require improvisation.
“Move or I’ll move you,” Stefan says, his dark eyes full of menace.
His orange aura spikes out, prodding at me, and I have had enough of that.
Much as I loathe them, murdering Divine-blessed hunters of important fort families will do nothing for my mission. If the Havenwoods lose their power here, my chance to help Aidia will be lost as well.
Leaving them alive is also a risk. Stefan is too volatile to be controlled. If his family takes over, I will have no way to earn his trust.
Both men are looking at me like they’d be happy to kill me just to get through this door—and if they open the door too soon, that Breeder will escape. Much as the people here might hate me, they’ve suffered enough. I don’t wish them any further suffering—especially if this thing is hunting women.
I take a step toward Stefan. Gaven taught me how to fight like a woman, which means following an opponent’s movements instead of trying to overpower them. It has meant learning to ignore the natural fear in my body, to let an adversary close. Stefan comes at me hard with a left hook. I slash across his forearm with my blade and snatch his wrist, using momentum from the punch to slam him against the metal door.
He hits it shoulder-first with a loud pop. As he stumbles to the side, I pin him against the wall, calling up my magic. My lips tingle and my mouth turns sweet as I lean in.
Stefan fights for a second until he realizes what I’m doing. He thinks he’s getting what he’s owed.
In a way, he is.
My lips are a breath from his when I’m grabbed by my hair and jerked back. I stumble a few steps. Joe releases my hair and tackles me to the ground. He tries to pin me there, but something inside me snaps.
It feels like I’m being pulled apart by a living anger, like all the rage in the world is splitting me up the center and coming out to rip these men apart next.
It’s only a blink of an eye that the world disappears in a flash of white, but when I come back to my body, I’m straddling Joe’s waist, ripping my blade from a raw, bloody wound in his neck.
“Harlow!” Henry’s voice drags me from the daze. He’s circling the beast, but his shirt is torn, bloody scratches weeping on his side.
Stefan is leaning against the wall next to the door, holding his shoulder, which dangles at an odd angle. I must have dislocated it when I shoved him.
I sprint for the lock. When Stefan sees what I’m doing, he tries to cut me off. I throw my full weight into him, ignoring the fierce protest of my broken ribs. His head hits the door with a dull crack and he collapses against the wall.
For a moment, I can’t figure out how to open the door, but then I see the pointed blood lock on the wall. I hold my breath as I press my finger to it, praying to the Divine that it will work like the locks in Havenwood House.
The bolt clicks, the bar sliding to the side. It’s heavy and the notches fit into the wall like a puzzle, but after a long moment of fiddling, it finally lifts and the door is unbarred. I press my ear to it and knock three times—my signal to Gaven that we established years ago to let him know when it was safe for him to come into my room.
It’s immediately wrenched open, and Gaven sprints past me. Carter rushes in after him, yanking the door closed and barring it again before any drunken hunters can get a good look.
Carter takes one look at my blood-soaked hands and dress and stops. “What?—”
“It’s not mine,” I say. “I don’t know what happened.”
I couldn’t possibly explain it. The anger carried me somewhere else and I was gone for what could have only been seconds.
Across the room, blue fire flares from Gaven’s hands and the beast lets out an unholy keening sound as it burns into a bright blaze of holy fire. Within moments, it’s nothing but a pile of putrid ash.
Henry doesn’t even wait for it to cool before he’s stepping over it and rushing toward me. He looks me over, patting my arms.
