Chapter 20

20

T he sun began to set, casting long shadows across Mikhail's office. It had been an excruciatingly long day talking with dignitaries, commoners, and what was left of his family. The questions were endless, which he expected. But he was surprised to discover just how chaffed he felt. He’d gotten too used to the freedom at the rebel camps.

He sat behind his massive desk, his brow furrowed as he silently calculated how much longer they would be. “Thirty minutes. Maximum,” he decided with a mutter. There were only four names left on the list.

“I’m holding you to that,” Brax said quickly, pointing a finger at Mikhail. He was seated next to him in a fancy, high-backed chair and looked uncomfortable as hell.

Sabre lounged in a plush armchair across the room, idly twirling a wooden stake between her fingers. “This sucks.”

“Would you sit up? The next person is due any moment,” Draven scolded from his position behind Brax’s chair.

Sabre let out an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh but did as directed. She rolled her head on her neck before rising and walking over to stand behind Mikhail’s chair. “There. Happy? Now we both look like idiot sentinels.”

Thankfully, there was a soft knock at the door before Marius announced their next visitor. Hugo led in a striking woman who appeared to glide across the room. Her porcelain skin glowed in the fading light, and her eyes, a lovely shade of violet, fixed on Mikhail with an intensity that made him stiffen. He felt Sabre swiftly move closer to his back, sensing something off as well.

“Good evening,” the woman purred, her voice like silk. “Thank you so much for seeing me. I hope I'm not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Mikhail replied graciously. “Miss ...?”

“Zara,” she supplied, a coy smile playing on her blood-red lips. “Miss Zara.”

Mikhail's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. He had never seen her before, and yet there was something about her that seemed familiar. “What brings you here this evening, Miss Zara?” he asked, trying to keep his tone formal.

She sauntered closer to his desk, her hips swaying seductively. “Firstly, I just wanted to say how happy I was to learn your death was exaggerated. Welcome home. Secondly, I heard that you were in need of some assistance with the recent events involving your family.”

He exchanged a frown with a tense Brax. “Assistance?” he repeated cautiously.

Zara's smile widened. “I am known as a seeker of knowledge,” she said smoothly. “I have access to information that others do not.”

“A seeker of knowledge, huh? I’ve never seen you before,” Sabre said icily.

Mikhail was just as suspicious as Sabre, but he couldn't lose a potential opportunity for information. He proceeded cautiously, gesturing for the woman to take a seat across from him, even as he signalled Sabre and his brother to stay on alert. “Please, have a seat.”

Zara sat down gracefully and crossed her legs, displaying a hint of thigh through the slit in her long black dress. She leaned forward slightly, allowing them all a better view of her ample cleavage. He could have told her it was wasted on everyone in the room, but he held his tongue. “What information do you have for me?”

A sly smile curved Zara's lips as she leaned back in the chair. “I have a proposition for you, King Mikhail.”

Mikhail wasn’t thrilled with the emphasis she placed on his title. His gut was now screaming at him. Thirty seconds, he told himself. Give her thirty seconds before you set Sabre loose on her. “Go on,” he prompted gruffly.

“I can provide you with information about the attacks on your family, and in return, I ask for your help with a personal matter of mine,” Zara explained, her voice low and alluring.

“What kind of help?” Mikhail asked cautiously.

Zara's gaze intensified as she locked eyes with him. “You see, I have these two brothers that just won’t die. They’re like fucking cockroaches.”

As she spoke, her voice morphed. Once sounding high and husky, her words now resonated with a deeper, familiar timbre.

“Zagan?” Mikhail said aghast.

A cocky grin tilted Z’s lips as his lithe feminine form began to ripple and distort. The illusion of pale vampiric flesh melted away like wax, revealing tanned skin beneath. Delicate features twisted and reshaped themselves—high cheekbones broadened, full lips thinned and curled into a sneer, glossy black hair writhed as if alive, shortening and lightening to a shaggy chestnut undercut. Slender limbs thickened with corded muscle, shoulders broadening as his chest flattened.

Sabre and Draven moved like lightning, their wings expanding and taking up most of the space behind the desk. Sabre pulled Mikhail up from his seat, pushing him behind her as Draven shoved Brax back against the wall. Mikhail and Brax stood frozen, their eyes locked on the figure before them. Z, their baby brother, once cherished and protected, now stood in front of them as their mortal enemy.

The sight of Zagan was bittersweet. Mikhail had grieved his loss alone, without the comfort of Brax. Just as Brax had done without him to share the pain. It had been a terribly dark time for Mikhail, and he’d almost given in and revealed himself to Brax thousands of times. It was only Sabre commanding him to suck it up and stick to the plan that he didn’t run home crying. Mikhail was happy to see Zagan alive, yet at the same time, he wanted to rip his brother’s throat out. It was quite the conundrum.

Sabre didn’t seem to think so because she launched herself into the air, her wings lashing out furiously at his now laughing brother. Zagan, ever agile, leapt gracefully out of the way. “What? No hug?” he taunted, his eyes like their mother’s, alight with mischief.

He certainly didn’t look like a man trapped in a room full of people who wanted him dead.

“Zagan, how could you?” was all Mikhail could think to say.

“It was easy, really,” Z admitted with a smile. He kept a wary eye on Sabre as she circled him but continued to speak mildly. “Killing isn’t difficult. The first time is a little nerve-wracking, I’ll admit. But every time after that is like flicking a switch.” He held up his hand, miming pressing a button. “Breathing. Not breathing. Alive. Dead.” He looked at Sabre. “Am I right?”

“You’re so right,” Sabre snarled, launching her stake.

It shot from her hand like a bullet, whizzing through the air. Z made no attempt to move. He simply raised his right hand and snatched the wooden projectile from the air. “Nice try,” he commented before looking at Mikhail and Brax once more. “I don’t know why you’re so mad. I’m doing you both a favour.”

“Of course you are,” Brax growled sarcastically. He pushed past Draven, who was still standing protectively in front of him. “Zagan, you’re a fucking psycho who needs to be put down.”

“And who’s going to do it? You?” Z inquired with a smirk. “Tell me, have you noticed any changes recently? Maybe you’re feeling stronger or quicker. Or perhaps your senses are sharper?”

Brax narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about that?”

Z shrugged negligently. “I know you have me to thank for it.”

Brax wasn’t buying it. “Bullshit. Why would you make me stronger when you know you have to fight me?”

“Because I’m good like that,” Z declared, sarcasm thick in his voice. He looked at Mikhail. “Besides, it’s not just you. How are you feeling these days, Miki?”

“Don’t call me that.” Mikhail lashed out immediately. The sound of his childhood nickname on Zagan’s lips hurt like hell. Z merely shrugged, his cocky grin remaining in place. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I feel normal.”

And he did, he assured himself. Sure, he was feeling off-balance, but that could be attributed to his return. Not to mention, discovering he had a fated mate in Jinx.

“To answer your previous question, Braxy-boy, that wasn’t exactly the plan,” Z began, shaking his head at Sabre when she pulled out a gun and cocked it. “Sabre threw a spanner in the works. Mikhail is supposed to be dead; you would have been by now as well. Hence, no new superpowers for either of you. Only me.”

“Only you?” Mikhail latched onto the words.

“Oh, yes,” Zagan hissed gleefully. “You have no idea what’s coming. It didn’t have to be this way. I did think about letting you in on the plan. But I knew you wouldn’t approve. You were always too weak to embrace true power,” Z spat scornfully.

“And you were always blinded by your own ambitions,” Mikhail retorted loudly. “You were never satisfied with what you had—always pushing for more. You’ve always been an entitled, spoiled brat.”

Z whistled low. “That was a rousing speech, brother,” he said, applauding. “Don’t forget a mummy’s boy.”

“You’ll be seeing your mummy soon,” Sabre stated coolly, aiming her gun at Z’s head.

Mikhail stopped her before she could fire. “Sabre, wait. Zagan, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Bonus powers?” He shook his head. “I don’t care about that. But I do care about the repercussions. The souls, Z. Think about the souls.”

Z’s head cocked to the side. “This is news. What souls?”

“Don’t play dumb, Z,” Brax growled. “You know damn well what souls. Just tell us why. Why would you want to eradicate multiple species?”

Z looked genuinely perplexed. “I wouldn’t. I admit to killing specific descendants, but that’s strategic. If extinction was my end game, there are far more efficient ways to go about it. I seek power , dear brothers. Not death . They just so happen to go hand-in-hand.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “What’s a demon to do?”

He was telling the truth, Mikhail realised. Feeling a tiny spark of hope, he swiftly explained what they had discovered about the Forefathers, including Loki’s words. Sabre’s arm remained up and steady, her focus never leaving Z—who appeared to find the whole situation entertaining instead of heartbreaking.

“So, I’m not just killing the body, I’m killing the soul?” Z asked.

“Eventually, yes. When the last descendant of any particular line dies, that’s it. The souls will cease to be, and no new being will be born,” Mikhail explained earnestly.

“Is this why you were given a super-secret angel? You’ve got some big ‘ole destiny to fulfil?” Z laughed sharply, slapping his thigh, a mannerism he’d picked up from their mother. “That is just like you. You couldn’t be content with being the firstborn and a king? Oh no, not Mikhail. You have to save the whole universe.”

“What the fuck? Did you hear anything Mikhail just said?” Brax snapped, taking an aggressive step forward. “This isn’t about him. This isn’t about you. You’re destroying the world, Z! Literally! Not to mention, if you just stopped, then Mikhail wouldn’t have to save all the souls! Your actions put this twisted destiny into motion. Not the other way around. You are the catalyst.”

Z’s face shut down, turning cold and hard. He looked every inch a psychotic Ace. “Good. Mother was right.”

“Mother?” Mikhail questioned, sharing a confused look with Brax.

“She used to read me bedtime stories.” Z’s eyes became a little glassy when he said, “I miss her.”

Sabre’s finger twitched on the trigger. “This fucker looks like he’s about to snap. He’s not right in the head, Mikhail. Can I shoot him yet?”

“Z, I have no idea what Mother has to do with this, but now you know the full extent of your actions, will you stop?” Mikhail spoke quickly, knowing Sabre wouldn’t be held back much longer. He’d already given Z too many chances as it was.

“Stop?” Z’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “No. I don’t think I will. You’ve just told me I can be a God rather than a King. So, I think I’ll go ahead and continue to cross names off my list. It’s still rather long,” he added. “But I’m making progress. Unfortunately, your friends aren’t on the list. But given how terribly you’ve treated me today, I’m inclined to add them. Who shall I start with? The pain demon? Or perhaps the odd zombie with ties to the black market.” Z snapped his fingers. “I know, I’ll start with the pretty little weretiger.”

“Stay away from my mate!” Mikhail screamed without thought.

Silence echoed in the room for a few tense heartbeats before Z’s eyes lit with bloodlust. “Mate? Well, well, well …” And just like that, his body collapsed in on itself, and he became a bee, zipping through the keyhole in the door before anyone could react.

Sabre spun to Mikhail as Draven and Brax ran from the room. “What were you thinking?!”

Mikhail shook his head, feeling like he was trapped in a fog. “I don’t know.”

“You just told your greatest enemy your biggest weakness!” Sabre yelled, marching over to him.

Fear pounded through him, making him feel nauseous. “Where is Jinx now?”

“She went home a couple of hours ago,” Sabre replied, whipping her phone out.

“Where is home?” Mikhail demanded. His hands shook badly as he reached for his phone in his back pocket.

Sabre’s thumbs moved furiously over the keys as she typed out a message. “The warehouse.”

“Gage’s warehouse?” he questioned. “Where he holds the fights?”

“Yes,” Sabre confirmed, glancing up and bringing her phone to her ear. “She’s not answering. And Gage hasn’t replied to my message. Her room is on the second floor, last door on the left.”

Mikhail didn’t waste more time with words. He sent a message to Brax, then created a portal with nothing more than a thought and leapt through. He closed the doorway behind him, leaving Sabre in the dust.