His Wrath

Thorne.

Anticipation.

I was still catching the taste of her when the door slammed open.

Scott.

The only reason he wasn’t lying in a pool of his own blood was because I hadn’t reached my gun yet.

His eyes flicked between Elena and me then he dropped his gaze, smart man. “Apologies, sir. I wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t urgent.”

“Then say it before I change my mind,” I growled, my voice rough, soaked in what she just took from me.

He stepped forward cautiously. “Raven’s men. They’ve started circling. Quietly, but not enough.”

I frowned. “That rat’s always sniffing. What’s new?”

Scott swallowed. “They’re not asking for Katherine.”

That made me still.

“They’re asking for… Zoey. I think they found out that we've been looking for her.”

A silence followed.

The name hit me in the gut like a blade coated in history. I thought I was the only one who believed Zoey is still alive, and residing in the country.

My jaw tightened, and I could feel Elena watching me now. But I didn’t dare look at her.

“Raven thinks I’m looking for Zoey,” I said slowly, my voice eerily calm.

Scott nodded. “And worse… I think he believes she’s alive.”

I laughed then, just once. The coldest sound I’d made in years. “The bastard thinks I’d chase ghosts?”

But I was.

And that was the damn problem.

My eyes drifted to Elena, just for a second, and I saw it, hesitation. A question.

She didn’t know what that name meant to me. Not yet.

I looked back at Scott. “If Raven wants to play with fire, give him a match.”

“And what about Zoey?” he asked.

I turned fully to him now, a slow, dangerous smile curling my lips. “If she’s alive… tell her to run.”

“Because if I find her before he does—”

I looked at Elena again. This time longer. Darker.

“—I won’t bury her twice.”

“Where is the guy I sent to investigate secretly about Zoey’s whereabouts?” I asked, brushing off invisible lint from my shirt as I adjusted my clothes, the aftertaste of that kiss still lingering on my lips.

Scott didn’t lift his head. “In the torture room. Tied to the chair. We’re waiting for your command.”

I hummed, satisfied. Efficient. Loyal. Predictable.

Behind me, I heard Elena’s breath hitch then her voice cut through, still laced with emotion.

“Must you really punish him? Can’t anything go scot-free under your watch?”

I turned to her slowly, meeting her gaze with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“That is weakness, Elena. The path to power is paved with blood. A soft heart will get you killed, or worse…” I stepped toward her, close enough that she had to look up. “...controlled.”

She didn’t speak. But her eyes said everything, disgust, defiance… and something else she didn’t want me to see.

I looked away first.

“Lead the way, Scott,” I said, though I could find the path blindfolded. My hands already itched for the truth.

And pain was a language I spoke fluently.

“Please spare me, please, have mercy! I didn’t mean for the leak, I tried my best I swear I did!”

He erupted the second I entered the room. Pathetic. Snot and spit lined his lips. His voice cracked, shrill from pain or fear, maybe both.

One favorable thing about this kind of begging?

It didn’t soften me.

It sharpened me.

Mercy was a disease. And I’d long since built immunity.

I moved toward him slowly, savoring the way he flinched when my footsteps echoed against the concrete. His hands trembled against the restraints, wrists raw from struggling.

A red smear of blood trailed down his temple. Tears mixed with sweat. His clothes, shredded, useless, clung to him like wet paper.

“You’re half-dead already,” I said, picking up an iron rod, heavy and cold. “Now tell me why you’re working for Raven. I hate lies, you know it.”

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear to God!” he shrieked. “I’ve never even seen him in my life! You’re the only boss I’ve ever had, please, please, I’m loyal!”

I didn’t speak.

I let the silence scream.

The rod felt natural in my hand, like it belonged there. My gaze locked on his, and he froze as if realizing just then that I was past the point of mercy. Past the point of negotiation.

I leaned down slightly, voice low, calm, intimate.

“You say loyalty.”

I placed the rod against his thigh. He whimpered.

“But my enemies know your name.”

I pressed harder. A whine burst from his throat.

“And Zoey's ghost is stirring.”

Then, with one fluid strike, the metal cracked down into muscle and bone.

He screamed.

“I want names,” I said, pulling the rod back, blood slick across its edge. “Or the next one goes through your mouth.”

Then came Vigil’s voice, rushed, breathless, urgent.

“My lord! He’s innocent!”

It echoed through the hallway before he even reached the door.

He burst in seconds later, panting, head bowed low.

Scott stepped forward, irritated. “What do you mean?”

Vigil’s chest rose and fell as he struggled to speak fast enough. “Someone else… someone else was asking around about Zoey. And it wasn’t quiet. It was loud, public. No attempt at secrecy. Word got out. That’s how Raven caught wind of it. He may have assumed it was you, or one of yours.”

I turned my head slowly toward Vigil, my hand still gripping the blood-slick rod.

He was still bowed. Smart.

I stared at the bleeding, trembling man strapped to the chair. Soaked in pain. But no longer guilty.

A shame.

“You ruined the fun,” I muttered.

I tossed the iron rod into the vat of boiling water nearby. The sizzle was sharp, angry.

The man on the chair flinched at the sound, he wouldn’t forget it in whatever life he had left.

Then I walked up to him, crouched close, and studied his eyes.

“You’re lucky,” I said softly. “He saved you. But if what you were accused of finally come true...”

I didn’t finish the sentence. I just smiled.

The kind of smile that twisted something in men’s spines.

I stood, dusted off my hands, and turned to Vigil.

“Find out who it was. I want a name. And if they know the shape of her shadow, bring me their eyes first.”

Vigil didn’t let me take a single step before he dropped the bomb.

“It was that man… the one who bowed before you and vanished without a trace, Reid. He’s back.”

My breath caught mid-motion. My muscles locked.

I turned my head slowly, hoping he was joking, hoping this was some twisted misunderstanding. “Tell me you’re kidding, Vigil. Why would Reid come back now?”

“I saw him with my own eyes,” Vigil said, his voice unwavering. “I know what I saw. And lying to you is the last thing I’d ever do.”

He wasn’t lying. The fear in his eyes wasn’t fake.

“Scott!” I barked.

“Yes, sir!” Scott came running.

“Prepare the van. Fully armed. I want explosives, sniper rifles, silencers—everything. And book us a place to stay minimum ten kilometers from this estate. Something discreet.”

Scott nodded and vanished.

I stood there, my pulse a storm under my skin. Reid. Alive. Here.

There was a time the country dared not touch him. A time I played by rules that kept him untouchable.

Not anymore.

This time, I’d rip his liver out while he watched. I’d paint his legend with his own blood.

Reid is back?

Not for long.