There were many moments in his life when he felt wrathful.

But he had never felt this angry, with shaking fingers and a ghost of a throb across his knuckles.

Since that night, he'd felt shattered. He wasn't himself. He was a pathetic impersonation of the man he had been before he walked into that phony meeting.

Thoughts ran through his mind, making him doubt.

Was Gabriel right, and was it his fault for not obeying? It wasn't blind loyalty that Kiernan gave Gabriel. He knew that the vampire was shrewd, ruthless, and a leader worthy of following.

Maybe Kiernan had twisted what happened because of Mercalli.

Gabriel had said it, hadn't he, back then? That Mercalli broke him, and the man's ghost haunted him.

No.

He knew that he wasn't the one who was broken.

The fury he harboured wasn't for Dallas, who gave him no semblance of personal space. He tasted his hatred for this man as an iron tang of bloodthirstiness that promised violence.

Dallas laid his large hands on the side of Kiernan's face, muttering lowly, but Kiernan couldn't hear any words.

It was probably seen as a grounding gesture to the vampires fanned out around the blood-covered club.

To Kiernan, it felt like a shove off a cliff into a rocky expanse below.

His ears rang.

His stomach swooped, and he felt as if he was asphyxiating on his rising despair, and then...he was fucking livid.

At Gabriel.

Who dared to send this cretin tonight.

When he texted Gabriel for aid, he knew what might happen. Deep inside, he understood he wouldn't be welcomed back to the coven with fondness. But he hadn't thought Gabriel would be this vindictive, forcing him to be near Dallas so soon.

Dallas was another threat.

Gabriel had always known Kiernan better than he knew himself. Wasn't that how the man kept him acquiescent for so many years? Gabriel was a master of gaslighting and manipulation. He presumably saw that Kiernan would break sooner rather than later and needed to exert his authority again.

Calloused thumbs moved beneath his eyes in a mock gesture of tenderness. He saw Dallas's mouth moving but heard nothing.

Kiernan wanted to look for Lucas. But his world was filled with the intense thuds of his heart and his thoughts, puzzle pieces that had never fit before. Now, with the sharp clarity of anger, they were finding their places perfectly.

Dallas was a sadist to the extreme—Kiernan learned that firsthand. The vampire was dangerously ambitious, and they had a sordid history. But that wasn't why he was here tonight. It wasn't why Dallas agreed to participate in Gabriel's deranged game, either.

Those hours that he couldn't rid from his mind had two stars: Gabriel and Dallas.

Dallas shouldn't be alive.

Gabriel wasn't a man who tolerated loose ends. He cut them before they could fray. Dallas had glimpsed the monster underneath firsthand. He saw who Gabriel was under the immaculate façade.

How could Kiernan have not seen how deluded Dallas was?

Dallas felt more than just the desire to harm a man who had made him feel insignificant for years.

Gabriel saw the truth.

Was that how he ensured Dallas's undying loyalty?

Gabriel likely told Dallas that Kiernan wasn't normal, lonesome, and secluded and that it was only a matter of time before he gave in to Dallas's advances.

He was repulsed by the realization that he lived remotely and that Dallas could have shown up on his property with enough men to overtake him and would, if he dared to go home.

That Gabriel would allow it made him nauseous.

Maybe Kiernan was traded for Dallas's influence and continued subordination in the city.

If Kiernan stepped back in Fawnhill, would he be subdued and have Dallas laughing in his ear again with no way to fight back?

Dallas already had Kiernan's job. Since he'd been gone, someone had to take over his duties, and he would bet money that it was this imbecile.

But Dallas was hungry for more if he was here, risking Kiernan's wrath.

Could those vampires watching them stop him before he ripped off Dallas's fingers?

No, they couldn't.

Could they stop him before he gouged out the cretin's eyes?

No, they couldn't.

Could they stop him before he took his teeth to Dallas's jugular in a show of brutality?

No, they couldn't.

He'd kill this man before anyone got their hands on him.

He envisioned himself doing all of those things vividly.

Even if he desired nothing more than to hear Dallas shriek in agony, Kiernan stayed his hand. In his peripheral view, he saw Lucas had been forced to rise. If he began a brawl, the mage would be vulnerable.

Kiernan heard Lucas cursing in pain as the mage was roughly pulled around the bar by a pair of vampires in tactical gear, and his injured leg was used against him, preventing him from fighting back.

Then, Kiernan heard nothing but ringing in his ears as Dallas's blue gaze darted to his mouth.

The imbecile's fingers glided from Kiernan's cheek down to his neck, skimming the scars of bites that they both knew would be there if he were human.

The world returned in a whoosh.

Kiernan seized Dallas's wrist, twisting until he felt the bone of the vampire's arm threaten to give in to the pressure.

He heard Dallas sucking air through his teeth and only then relented. He wanted to snap the bone, but it would start a chain reaction he couldn't afford.

Kiernan squeezed the pulsing wrist tighter. "If you want to keep your hand, you won't touch—"

An open palm cracked across his face, quieting his words and whipping his head to the side.

His hip would have hit the bar, but Dallas clutched his elbow, pulling him back slightly and making him stand tall. He felt the ache throb his cheek and pang his nose.

His chest rose fast.

Then, a wave of pain that wasn't his flowed through him. He resisted a pained groan, gritting his teeth. For an instant, before he mentally rebelled against his connection with the boy, he felt the consequences of hours of torture vividly.

"I touched you..." Dallas's breath against his ear and his baritone voice, softer than a whisper, pained him more than any slap ever could. "Alexander isn't here. You have no authority. These men follow me. You'll stop being a disrespectful prick if you want to make it to Fawnhill without detours."

Kiernan snorted. "I'm sorry, Dallas, sir." He expected retaliation for his bored tone, and when fingers grasped his hair, jerking his head back, he didn't react beyond a sharp inhale from the pain. He glared and enunciated, "I respect you as you deserve."

Dallas was close enough that Kiernan thought the man might try to kiss him even with their multitude of witnesses. He'd become a rabid dog if the man dared and bite to maim.

The vampire's baritone whisper was felt as a breath across his face, "I like you better gagged."

Kiernan's eyes closed. His anguish clawed at the foundations of apathy he'd built for centuries to keep himself composed and sane.

Memories invaded without remorse, robbing his breath.

He could smell Dallas close by, which made the flashes more profound. Maybe he was pathetic. It wasn't the pain or the mortification that cut him most resoundingly—it was the betrayal.

Gabriel, ignoring his pleas for clemency, tormented him on repeat.

Never once did Kiernan feel regret for disobeying. He'd do it again...even if Reid was infuriating.

The boy took after his mother more than he knew. That was who Kiernan saw when he stared into Reid's eyes. Not the vicious coldness of his father. He'd always seen the stubborn fire of Imogen reflected in the blue.

But these scars Kiernan felt went past physical, deep and thick, the kind he'll carry forever.

He willed his eyes to open.

He stared at his tormentor, mental walls of apathy once again impenetrable.

"To tell you the truth..." Kiernan frowned. "I'd completely forgotten." He suffered torments of that night that left him awake for hours, choking for breath. "Are you sure that you were there?"

Dallas freed Kiernan's hair from his painful hold, perhaps recalling they had an audience. "I'll have to remind you."

The vampire's expression was dark enough to make Kiernan's heart race and his muscles tense, prepared to defend if the beast stalking him decided to pounce.

"This time..." Dallas whispered lowly, "I'll make sure you don't forget."

Kiernan smiled maliciously despite feeling on the edge of vomiting. "I'd rather be flayed alive."

He glanced away at Dallas's scoff and scanned the club. Bodies were strewn in various positions of death. The tiles were slick with blood. He tried not to make it evident that he was searching for Lucas, knowing Dallas would seize that vulnerability.

The vampires he once considered his closest watched his exchange with Dallas without interfering. Some wore masks, concealing their identities from anyone who might have seen them enter.

Since potential witnesses lay dead, a few vampires had taken off their masks, freeing their faces for his scrutiny. He recognized them and felt nothing but cold familiarity.

His attention shifted to Lucas, who was being forced onto his knees by Madoc—a vampire with dark hair and darker eyes. The mage was putting up a futile struggle.

Kiernan's fingers clenched into tight fists.

Lucas's knees hit the tile hard. Before he was descended upon, he elbowed Madoc, earning a brutal punch that made him hunch over, gagging on blood.

Then, Madoc seized the mage's hair and yanked severely.

Lucas gritted his blood-covered teeth, his nostrils flaring. He was finished, his neck bared, and he was heavily injured, but he hadn't given up the fight. It was tremendously foolish.

He was outnumbered. These vampires would kill the mage simply for their deranged enjoyment. They were hungry for brutality after slaughtering the Sinclairs and because Lucas harboured magic.

Lucas was fortunate that Mercalli was not present, or the mage would have been alive for days and suffered greatly.

Still, it wasn't going to be brief. The vampires were going to draw it out and take turns. Especially with how receptive Lucas was to the degradations Madoc purred against his ear.

The mage growled and shot back insults that had the vampires watching, laughing, and smiling widely, appreciating the entertainment.

Dallas leaned in close. "Where is Gabriel's son?"

"Not here," Kiernan answered coldly, staring at the glossy bar top.

Dallas enunciated lowly, "You're lying."

Kiernan scoffed. He tried to keep his gaze fixed, but it slid up. Dallas kept whispering threats in his ear.

He was flooded with bitter amusement, understanding why Dallas was so desperate for him to share Reid's whereabouts. He risked Gabriel's wrath by daring to come back empty-handed.

Madoc was wiping blood from his nose. He glared at the vampire assisting him in keeping Lucas on his knees.

"Hold him," Madoc snapped angrily. "He broke my nose."

The vampire that held Lucas's wrists scoffed. "Finish it, or I will." He struggled to keep Lucas subdued, and another vampire in tactical gear came to assist. "He's bleeding everywhere. It's maddening."

Lucas laughed, wrists held high by the pair of vampires flanking him. He looked between his captors, grinning. "Are you going to kill me, boys, or talk about it?"

He received a few laughs from his audience for his arrogance.

Kiernan endeavoured to feel nothing when Madoc sat heavily on the couch, fisted Lucas's hair, and dragged him closer with the assistance of the two pairs.

Against his ear, Dallas threatened to whip him again, but he ignored the imbecile, lost in his thoughts.

How did he ever feel exhilarated from seeing someone treated like they were nothing?

Bile rose in his throat.

For what it's worth, Lucas could take pride in the fact that he'd made three vampires labour to keep him subdued.

"Kiernan," Dallas growled near his ear. "Where is Gabriel's son?"

In the back of the building, Kiernan thought angrily. You complete and utter fucking cretin. Send your men to look, and you'll see. But you won't because you've no idea what you're doing.

Kiernan focused on Madoc, who'd lain a hand over the mage's neck.

Knowing what would happen and that he could not stop it, Lucas's first vulnerable reaction escaped as a throaty protest echoed in Kiernan's ringing ears.

Madoc sank his fangs into Lucas's neck.

It was evident that Lucas had not been bitten before. The mage inhaled sharply and stiffened against the initial pain. Then forced bliss flowed through his veins, and he lost his fight with a trembling exhale.

Kiernan's stomach flipped.

The vampires maintained their grip on Lucas's wrists and reacted with amusement when he began to breathe quickly from pleasure or hyperventilation. The mage's heart was beating worryingly fast.

Laughter ensued.

He wanted to burn these men alive.

The dangling crystal lights overhead flickered. Most of the vampires watching glanced up in shock, and the scent of fear filled the air.

But whatever magic had been awakening was gone when Madoc dragged Lucas back harshly, further between the vampire's spread legs, and bit his bleeding neck savagely.

The smell of blood filled the air. Madoc's gloved palm covered Lucas's mouth, damping his pained noises.

Madoc had always had a fondness for cruelty, keeping his victims counterbalanced between pleasure and agony.

Kiernan pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth, preventing the foolish word that threatened to slip:

Stop.

He swallowed the word down. 

He saw flashes of violet-hued eyes in the men laughing. Mercalli. They were the same as his maker—sadistic.

How had he not seen it before now?

How had he played these games and not vomited?

Keeping his gaze fixed on the glimpse of leather couching above Madoc's shoulder, Kiernan said to Dallas, "The boy was moved before we could reach him." He allowed the large hand to seize his chin and drag his gaze up, meeting Dallas's narrowed eyes. "What? Do you need orders? Go after him, you imbecile."

"Be quiet," Dallas ordered coldly.

Kiernan glared. If there's one thing he can do without fail, it would be to keep a poker face. He wasn't sure what Dallas was searching for while staring deep into his eyes. To see if he had lied about the boy's location? Or check if he was feeling nauseous from Lucas's treatment?

He was nauseated. His stomach was churning.

The smell of the mage's blood was getting stronger by the second, in the air and on his hands, which had stanched the man's wound.

"Are you in there, boss?"

"I'm here, imbecile."

"Magic can do a lot of nasty shit."

"I'm not under a spell."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

The audacity was nearly too much for him to handle. You fucking delusional man, Kiernan wanted to growl. You're too stupid for me to hate.

Kiernan ran his tongue along his bottom lip and tasted blood. He wasn't healing. Unsurprisingly. He had let Lucas have his blood twice and healed a few severer injuries from their fight with the Sinclairs. "I'm looking at you like I've always looked at you."

"You look off," Dallas remarked, frowning.

"Do I?" Kiernan retorted with an amused snort, and Dallas's eyes flickered dangerously dark with outrage.

Despite his aversion to being near this imbecile, Kiernan moved closer to Dallas, who watched him warily.

The man's eyes shifted darker, ravenous. Kiernan nearly lost his composure when a hand gripped his elbow, dragging him nearer.

"I've missed you," Dallas whispered lowly.

After everything, the audacity of this man thinking there was a chance he would reciprocate his sentiments made him near insane with rage, but Lucas's pained noises focused his thoughts on the present.

Kiernan whispered, only for their ears, "If you don't order Madoc to stop, I will. And you will get your fucking hands off me, or I'll show these men who's truly in charge."

Dallas glared, gauging Kiernan's threat. After a tense few seconds, he scoffed and stepped back. "I want the mage alive!"

Kiernan heard Lucas gasp a curse.

The mage's blood filled the air, heady with power. Lucas wasn't aware of how irresistible he smelt to every vampire in the room, all because of the magic running through his veins. Kiernan had slain mages, and they had all tasted exceptional.

Madoc was angry that he'd been ordered to stop. Kiernan heard the murmured arguments begin about who would kill Lucas.

They didn't have much time.