Chapter Twenty

Aamon

"They dare to take him!" my voice booms thunderously in the throne room. My teeth grind together as Berkley scuttles up the stairs to my side, his wings anxiously twitching.

"Master, they came from nowhere," he says, his voice wavering. "They hid his location from the moment they entered the field."

The heat of my wrath feels all-consuming, threatening to swallow me whole. "I told him he should wait until I was with him!" Slamming my fist onto the throne's arms, I hear the tourmaline crack. My vision blurs with a haze of rage as each beat of my heart pumps more vitriol into my blood.

"Gather the farmers and call the bruisers from the casinos." My command feels hollow, knowing that even I may be no match for Luce and Lilith solely on my own merit. This time I'll die protecting what's mine.

The march toward Lilith and Luce's home feels like an eternity, every second adding to the pressure building inside me. Berkley hovers anxiously in tandem with me, and behind us are an army of my people, marching with makeshift weapons. These are not soldiers, but they follow me with determination etched onto their faces.

Rage thrums continuously under my skin, barely restrained. The thought of Thorne—my Thorne—being taken by those traitorous bastards sends my blood boiling. I swear I can feel the snap of Lilith's little neck or the crackle of Luce's bones beneath my claws. No one takes what's mine from me. No one touches what's mine.

The gates of their palace come into view, towering with gilded grandiosity. I wish to burn the entire place to cinders, smelting the gold to turn into jewelry for Thorne to wear. As I fly over the manicured gardens, I allow my power to radiate out of me in waves, shaking the ground beneath me.. The farmers struggle to keep up, but I dare not care.

Once I am near the gate, Berkley skids to a halt, panic on his face. "Master, maybe we should?—"

Raising my hand with magic crackling under my fingertips, I flick my palm toward the entrance with darkened energy. The massive golden gates explode inward, twisting the metal and sending flying shards in all directions. My men shout with glee as they charge forward, but I dare not stop.

My men spill into the courtyard, the once serene garden a battlefield in the making. I can feel Berkley's apprehension, but I ignore his temperance. None of it matters. "Berkley, go to the back side with twenty men!"

"Sir." I hear his reply, though I pay it no mind.

The doors are just before me, white with golden knockers in the shape of angelic wings. Luce never grew tired of reminding others who they were. These doors seem to mock me with their elegance and memory of the life we once might have lived. With a thought and another flick of my wrist, they too shatter into splinters.

The grand hall is quiet. Too quiet. There are usually servants milling around at this hour of the day, and yet there is nothing.

"Where the fuck are you?" I roar as I stalk through the foyer into the sitting room.

What I expected to find was Thorne broken, bound and perhaps even at Lilith's cruel whims, but what greeted me is worse.

Lilith and Luce are sitting casually on the hideous floral couch, utterly unfazed by the chaos I wrought. They are playing cards.

"You're late, Aamon." Luce's timbre is even and calm. "We were beginning to think you weren't coming."

Lilith lazily shifts in her seat, refusing to look my way. "Didn't expect you to bring the entire city with you," she says, laying down a card onto the pile. "Bit excessive, don't you think?"

My mind snaps. A primal roar tears from my throat as my wings sprout from my back, knocking over a vase from a table. It clatters to the floor as I send a shot of magic toward them like a tidal wave. The couch is ripped up from under them as I fling it against the wall with a sickening crash.

Luce stands, brushing his clothing off as if my outburst means nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "There's that charming personality of yours we adore." He meets my eyes with a smirk of his own, unbothered by my murderous intent. "Thorne is fine. You're making a mess over nothing."

"Honey, you need to calm down. You'll give yourself wrinkles," Lilith says dramatically.

I growl, the words barely intelligible, "Where is he?"

In a blink of an eye, Lilith has her hand wrapped around my throat, slamming me against the marble wall. The stone cracks under the force. I grab her long red hair in my hand, pulling her neck backward, yearning for the opportunity to hear it snap. She merely smiles at me flirtatiously, trailing her hands over my lips.

"I would be careful if I were you." Luce approaches behind Lilith, a smile on his face, though I don't miss the way fire burns in his eyes. "Thorne may think you're cheating on him."

"Where is he!" With my hand still in her hair, I fling Lilith from me, sending her sprawling on the carpet.

Luce's eyes flare, though his face remains remarkably calm. For once, I see he's growing angry when usually he is uninterested in anything other than his own desires. "You are being an asshole!"

"We haven't even harmed him, Aamon, holy hells," Lilith hisses from her place on the ground.

To believe that would require me seeing it with my own eyes. I storm from the room without glancing behind me. My heart pounds with the desire to see Thorne, to ensure his safety and find him unharmed. Every moment without him feels like an eternity. As I round one of the corners, I stop in my tracks immediately.

Thorne steps out from the bathroom in the hall. When our eyes meet, he blinks, confusion on his face. I rush to his side. My hands tremble as they hover over his face, his neck, his chest and arms, searching for any sign of injury.

"It took you long enough."

I let out a breath I wasn't aware I've been holding, my hands finally settling on cradling Thorne's cheek. "I thought—" My voice chokes with emotion, bringing me to blink back tears.

Thorne reaches out, covering my hand with his smaller one. "I am fine, Aamon. They did not hurt me."

All the rage that burns in my veins is tempered by seeing him alive and whole. I press my forehead against Thorne's, inhaling as the tension drains from my body.

"I swear they'll pay for this," I whisper. "They won't touch you again. Not while I still breathe."

He grabs my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Stop, they only wish for my help."

Before I have a moment to think or breathe, I hear their footsteps closing in behind us. The soft clicking of Lilith's heels on the tiles sends my blood back to boiling. I turn on my heels, backing Thorne into the bathroom to shield him with my body.

"Oh, stop," Lilith says, rolling her eyes. "He's telling the truth. We want his help."

Luce cracks his neck, exhaling a loud, irritated sigh. "If you don't sit your ass down somewhere, I will make you, Aamon. We have much to discuss."