When I spot a collection of shovels by the side of the house, I realize this may have been Arlanna’s childhood vacation site, but it’s most likely the burial ground for all of Conan’s dark deeds.
“Go home, Paxton,” Conan says from the other side of the door. “This is bigger than you’re ready for.”
I loathe the insinuation that I am soft or unready to take on the world. I’ve been bred for too much of everything, but I’ve been kept at bay because I don’t believe in taking the ruthless path, like my father.
“Conan, that was my warning for you to hand over Arlanna. What happens next is on you.”
I don’t think; I just do. My glare is fueled by all the times I stood up to Father and it went nowhere. He taught me to be silent, which was really a lesson in controlling my temper. My fury must be precise as I glare at the front picture window, shooting a stream of fire out at the glass.
“Rafe can take it from here,” Gray assures me, moving toward the window and bending his knees, as if he means to take a running leap through the glass.
But I’m not finished. “Wait. It’s bulletproof glass. It takes heat, not just force.”
Gray swears, panting as he tugs his shirt over his head. “I can’t keep Rafe locked up for much longer! Hurry, Paxton!” He runs to the car and throws his shirt, boots and then his pants into the back. I assume his boxer briefs go next, but I can’t let my periphery steal my focus.
The line of heat that I draw across the top of the window gives off enough smoke, letting me know we’re nearly there. Brute force wouldn’t be able to break the panes, but as it turns out, I am the right man for this job.
This is what my ancestors knew I could do, and though I’ve let my father down, I haven’t let them down. I come from a long line of rulers, who would roll in their graves if they knew the oppression the great King Regis has wreaked on the people with his terrible laws. He’s focused only on the treasury, and not on the futures of the people funding it.
Conan is no different, seeing what advantages he can take in life, sacrificing even his own daughter if it gets him what he wants.
My glare sharpens when I think of all the times Arlanna has been required to close her mouth, keep her good ideas from the world, and hide her true self away, all because it didn’t fit into her father’s grand plans for widespread destruction.
I shouldn’t think her name, because the second I do, I picture her confidence shattered. I see my queen screaming in the closet.
That’s when I lose control of my magic.
What’s meant to be a clean cut across the top ends up a shattered mess that splinters all over the grass and the living room of the Valentine family cottage.
Conan shouts his anger and surprise, but it’s too late. His fortress has been breached.
“Get back, Paxton!” Gray shouts. It’s the last warning before Rafe breaks through Gray’s tight hold.
One minute, Gray is standing in front of the house, naked and ready for a fight. The next, a snarling wolf as tall as a horse leaps through the window, scaring a shout from Conan.
Too many gunshots rip through the evening air, startling me as I drop down on my hands and knees.
The sound of Rafe howling in agony is the only thing that thrusts me forward. Before I know it, I’m leaping into the house of ruin, hoping not to find my brother dead on the glass-covered floor.
14
The Valentine Family Cottage
Paxton
I don’t know why I was expecting Conan would be the only monster we’d have to deal with. At most, I assumed there would be one personal bodyguard. But four men are ready to shoot the second I step over the windowpane into the Valentine family cottage.
Rafe is laying on his side, blood seeping from his leg while he whines. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll get us out of here.” Though, I have no plan for that as of yet.
“Hands up, Son,” Conan bellows, picking himself up from the shards of glass and brushing off the debris from his bulbous belly. “You came a long way for nothing. Arlanna’s not here.”
Well, at least I know what it looks like when Conan Valentine lies through his teeth.
I stand my ground, putting my body between Rafe and the men. “I’m not leaving until I’ve got Arlanna. You can’t keep her here, locked away like you did her whole childhood. She’s a free woman now, despite everything you’ve done to try and keep her hidden away from the world.”
Maybe I’m talking to Conan. Or perhaps that speech is meant for my own father.
I kneel slowly, putting pressure on Rafe’s ribs to staunch the bleeding however I can. The tear along his back left haunch looks like a graze, but the leg is definitely going to be a problem.
Conan’s voice is usually buttery with a hint of grease, but his choppy cadence tells me he’s still recovering from the sight of the largest shifter anyone’s ever encountered. “What do you know about any of it? You’re a child. You’re still a boy. You have no idea what it takes to oil the wheels of society so the rats think they’re civilized.”
I am not a boy who sits and nods when he’s told. Not anymore. I am not an ornament used for pushing the next policy Father can’t get off the ground without my support.
I am not in a cage any longer.
The woman I love is in danger. My brother is wounded. Today is the day they will understand that no one gets through life without being held to account for all they’ve done.
I cannot waste more time going back and forth. Gray needs medical attention, and Arlanna’s suffered long enough.
My eyes fix on the gun of Arlanna’s Uncle Antoni. I remember him being the one who swore like he’d never seen a dictionary in his life, and he doesn’t disappoint when the weapon in his hands heats to the point of discomfort, thanks to my fiery glare.
“Shite!” Antoni drops his weapon and wrings out his hands as he lets out a stream of curses, drawing the attention of the others.
Instead of focusing on the next weapon, I go for skin, lighting a guard’s hands on fire because I’m tired of messing around.
I shouldn’t feel vindicated at inflicting violence. I shouldn’t revel in the energy that surges through me, fueling me with fire that feels too good to keep to myself.
I should be like Gray, who holds himself back from the edge with everything he’s got.
I shouldn’t smile, but that’s exactly what I do as I light the suit jacket of the next man on fire. And the next. As the men shout their confusion and fear, my gaze alights on the carpet, turning fiber to ash quicker than anyone should have a right to.
Conan is the only one I’ve left untouched. The fact that this is my girlfriend’s father sits heavy on me, though it doesn’t still my need to lash out. Yes, he’s her blood relative, but that should mean he protects her the most.
Unconsciousness was the only thing that could keep Sloan away. He’s her true family.
And so am I.
“Enough, Paxton!” Conan shouts as he shoves one of his guards onto the floor in an effort to smother the flames.
I stand, detesting the thought of a woman locked in a closet. The man who shoved her there will regret treating her so callously.