62. Danica

Danica

62

I can't help but smirk down at Amara, her once-powerful demeanor now reduced to pleading and squirming beneath me. "My, my, how the high and mighty have fallen," I taunt, pressing the dagger against her neck with a wicked grin. "Karma's finally caught up to you, hasn't it? And who better to deliver the blow than little old me."

Amara masks her irritation with a mocking smirk, "Oh, so you're the grand trophy my pet obsesses over?" I flinch at her words, provoking me—to call Rhyland her pet.

Without missing a beat, I fire back, "A trophy? More like the grand jackpot — and 'your pet'? I didn't realize we were back in preschool, Amara, playing pretend. But sure, in your make- believe world, keep thinking Rhyland's on a leash. In reality, though, he's the king of the beasts, and honey, he's all mine." I lean in closer, relishing the fear in her eyes. "You know, you should consider this payback for every hellish moment you put my man through. Your reign of terror ends here, by my hand."

Amara's eyes widen, her lips parting in a frantic bid for leniency. "You need me! I have information, power—"

"Oh, spare me the performance, Amara. Your lies couldn't sway a gnat, let alone me," I snap, my voice dripping with disdain and leaving no airspace for her excuses.

She tries again, her words growing more desperate. "I can help you! Spare me; I'll give you everything you need to defeat the Dark Demon!"

I can't help but chuckle, sharp and biting as if I am chewing on broken glass. "Strike a bargain with the devil in heels? Please, Amara. I'd rather eat dirt. Your little hourglass has run out, and your words? They're worth less than the damn breath you spent spitting them out."

I press the blade harder against her throat, taking savage satisfaction as a bead of black wells up. The fear in her eyes fuels that dark thrill within me. "Any last words before I send you back to the hell that spawned you?"

The dagger's hilt digs into my palm as Amara writhes futilely beneath me, her panicked breaths a haunting reminder of Rhyland's agony—agony she inflicted with twisted glee.

But now, an indomitable vigor flows through my veins, radiating from the Atherite jewel fused into my crown. Its otherworldly glow envelops us, even giving the Angel of Death pause. The stone magnifies my gifts exponentially; this is but a taste of the formidable might I wield.

Amara's eyes dart wildly, seeking any shred of mercy. But my resolve is iron-clad; her cruelty ends here—I alone decide her fate.

Amara's words drip with toxic delight, "You'll never locate them. Your beloved vampires are well out of your clutches."

Amara's jab stops me cold, chilling me to the core. My thoughts race… has she shackled Lucian and Erik, giving them a taste of her own brand of crazy?

I notice a shiver run through Rhyland, his concern for his brothers seeping into me through our emotional wiretap.

I keep my voice steady, betraying none of the dread coursing within. "Where are they, Amara? What have you done with them?"

"Oh, you'd love that piece of information, wouldn't you? But my lips are sealed, even with your blade kissing my neck. Do your worst because you'll learn nothing from me."

I see it in her eyes then—raw fear that her ruse will fail. I press the advantage. "Tell me where they are, or you'll face a fate far worse than death." Amara's expression shifts, desperation melting into cunning.

"Could you do it, Chosen One? Could you end a life in cold blood?" She throws her head back, her laugh sharp and empty.

My eyes lock onto hers, my will as unyielding as iron. "I've suffered losses you can't even fucking imagine." Flashes of John, my parents—Emily—my brother, and the past life I left behind weave through my head, stark against the ties I've formed here with Lucian, Erik, and Rhyland. "I'd tear apart the heavens for the ones I love. This? This isn't just killing—it's goddamn vengeance biding its time." My voice is rock-solid as I set the ultimatum. "Spill their damn location, Amara. I'm hanging on by a goddamn thread."

The dagger glints wickedly as I press it into her throat. Her pulse thrums wildly under the blade's kiss. But her silence persists, her final gambit.

Just as anxiety begins to take hold, a voice floats through my mind, soothing the whirlwind of worry—it's Rhyland. "They are safe. I just reached out to them. They're at the Sun Court," he assures me through our private psychic channel.

I barely manage to keep my expression neutral, the wave of relief threatening to crack my stoic facade. She doesn't have to know that I'm one step ahead, aware of the reality behind her charades. She's bluffing, dealing lies like worn-out cards, and I'm all in, ready to turn her deception into my ace.

Amara's arrogance lights a fire in me, a swirling hurricane ready to redecorate her face with a taste of my newfound power.

She sneers, "I knew it. You're pathetic, just like your pitiful mate." she motions to Rhyland with a flick of her head. "You'll always be a feeble weakling who can't even manage a proper kill. What kind of savior are you?"

I hover dangerously close to giving in, the line between justice and sweet, sweet vengeance thinner than the plot of a bad soap opera.

I burst into a mocking laugh. "Seriously? That's your best shot? Hold on, let me scribble that down in my diary of lame-ass comebacks, right in between 'you're a poopy-head' and 'I know you are, but what am I?'" I shake my head, feigning sorrow. "And you're going with 'weak'? That's rich, coming from the chick who resorts to kidnapping, compelling, and torture to puff up her fragile ego. Seems to me that speaks volumes about you, not me, sweetheart."

I land a solid punch right in her perfect little face, and I'm almost mesmerized as black liquid starts oozing from her nose. She tries to cup her nose, but it's too late—blood is already spewing from her broken face.

Ah, sweet satisfaction.

With a rough yank on her hair, I drag Amara away from the wall and into the center of the cell like a rag doll. Before she can even blink, I have her cuffed and chained like the nasty bitch she is. "Make yourself at home, honey," I say with mock sweetness. "I'd love for you to experience Rhyland's five-star accommodations firsthand. And don't worry, I'll be back once I figure out a more permanent living situation for you."

I give her a sarcastic little wave as I head for the door, savoring the look of shock and outrage on her bloody face.

She whines, "You can't leave me here! Stop! I know where—"

"Save the dramatics, Amara." I slam the cell door shut with a loud clang. "Make yourself comfortable in your new home. I'll be back to check on you soon." I give her one last sarcastic smile as I turn the lock, leaving her chained inside.

The second the cell locks, Rhyland is on me, his mouth crashing into mine as his fingers tangle in my hair. I return his fevered kisses, pouring all my love, devotion, and empathy for his suffering into it.

He went through hell at Amara's hands—twice! Simply ending her sadistic life would be too merciful. No, she needs to endure every ounce of anguish she inflicted on him and then some. I deepen our kiss, a silent promise that we will make her pay in the most excruciating ways imaginable.

He pulls back, locking his gaze with mine, intensity burning in his eyes, "Fuck, I am so proud of you for not getting sucked into her bullshit trap—for not going to a dark place I'd have dived into without a second thought. You kept your dignity and held onto your honor."

I gaze into Rhyland's mesmerizing blue eyes, dark and churning like a storm at sea. "Amara's earned a fate worse than death," I say firmly. "I can't give in to blind vengeance. My purpose is greater—to unite the realms and heal the divisions."

I caress his cheek, steeling my voice with resolve. "We'll make Amara suffer for what she's done in ways she can't even fathom. But we'll do it right—paving the path to justice."

Rhyland's forehead meets mine, his embrace firm, "Damn right—"

Footsteps sound to our left, "I have to admit, that bitch doesn't deserve your pity. But it sure warms my heart to see her rotting in a cell. Been wanting her behind bars for ages but couldn't do squat with her deal with Moretemis."

Rhyland and I jerk around at the voice echoing down the dim passage.

"Sorry for the fright, I'm—"

"King Alinar Cimmerian," Rhyland interjects.

I pause, caught off guard by his words. Amara's husband? This revelation leaves me momentarily bewildered.

"I'm sorry—a deal with Moretemis?" I finally ask, unable to contain my curiosity. "I don't understand—?"

I search Rhyland's eyes questioningly. This changes everything—I need to know more about Amara's connection to our sworn enemy. What sinister arrangement does she have with the Demon of Shadows? My mind races with the implications of this unexpected twist.

Alinar peers through the bars and then pivots to face us. "Amara's been in cahoots with that Shadow Bastard for ages. She's let him corrupt this kingdom—this entire realm—scheming together, feeding him souls through her twisted games and vile perversions."

"Alinar, you fool! Cease this madness at once! He's going to hunt you down—and when he's finished with you, he'll come for me!" Amara spits venomously from behind the bars of her cell.

Disregarding Amara's jeers, Alinar continues, "That's the root of the split between our kind, the war, the division. I've been playing along with her charade, waiting for the prophesied savior to come and redeem us all." His gaze locks on mine, determination burning in his eyes. "You."

Rhyland closes the distance, his presence commanding, "I had my suspicions, but you stood out like a sore thumb that day in her chambers. Now, it all makes fucking sense."

"Indeed, my sincerest apologies for the display. I recognized the righteousness of your intent, yet I had to uphold appearances. I trust you understand," Alinar explains.

Rhyland shrugs.

"Wait, so her compulsion doesn't work on you?" I quickly ask.

"It did, but I've found a way to repel her compulsion," Alinar explains.

"So, Amara's been dancing with Moretemis this entire time?" It's like discovering the quiet librarian secretly runs a dragon fight club—scandalous yet oddly fitting.

"Since the realm was cut off," Alinar confirms.

Rhyland folds his arms across his chest, deep in thought.

As if a light bulb goes off in my head, I recall seeing Amara wearing something that triggered my thoughts. "Hold up—" Unlocking the door—I kick it open and strut back inside.

"Danica, wait—" Rhyland calls out, his voice tinged with concern and caution, but I'm already storming into the cell with determination, my focus narrowed to a laser-sharp point on the task at hand.

Amara is sobbing, her hands covering her blood-soaked face in a futile attempt to hide her tears and her shame. But with a flick of my wrist, I blast a ball of light into the cell, illuminating the space with a blinding brilliance that cuts through the gloom and the despair.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and wild with fear and desperation, and sure enough, there's a black stone in a damn necklace, a tiny thing no bigger than a pea but pulsing with malevolent energy that sets my teeth on edge and my skin crawling with unease.

Without hesitation, I snatch it from her neck, my fingers closing around the cold, hard stone with a sense of grim satisfaction.

Amara screams like a banshee, her voice high and shrill with panic and despair. "No, no, no! Give that back, you bitch!" she wails, her hands scrabbling at her throat as if she's been robbed of her very lifeblood.

But I pay her no heed, storming out of the cell with the same determined stride that brought me in, slamming the door shut behind me with a resounding clang that echoes through the stone walls like a death knell.

I hold up the necklace to Rhyland and Alinar, a triumphant grin spreading across my face as I dangle it before them like a trophy, a prize hard-won and well-earned. "Looks like someone's been shopping at the inter-realm Costco for magical knickknacks," I say with a smirk, my tone dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "This explains her connection with Moretemis."

Rhyland gently takes possession of the necklace, his eyebrows raising in recognition as he turns it over in his hands. He examines it from every angle with a critical eye and a knowing expression. "Is this what I think it is?"

I confirm with a confident nod, "Indeed, it's a fragment of the Soul Stone."