“Yes! Can’t you see that this is our destiny? That it does you no good to resist?”
“There was once a man who believed he could take over the world by annihilating all of those who didn’t measure up to his standards,” Kalen sneered. “He believed in his sick mind that he would create a pure race, and he murdered millions while millions more bought his twisted lies. His name was Hitler, and his story didn’t end so well. Neither will yours.”
“You’re my son, and we’ll rule together! Sariel and those filthy wolves must die! And pendant or not, I’ll find a way to slaughter your woman as well, like the cow she is, and take that child for my own before I’ll allow you to defy me! You are mine!”
At that threat, the blackness within Kalen surged and he welcomed it—but this time to turn it on its creator.
His brothers were losing the fight. He gathered his power and saved it all for the threat to his mate and his family. May the gods give him strength.
“No!” he shouted back, summoning his Sorcerer’s staff. “I’ll see you in hell first, you motherfucker!”
“I’m your father. You won’t kill me.” He looked so damned smug.
“Oh, I will. I learned the meaning of ruthless from you, after all.”
* * *
Nick, bloodied and damned near broken, crouched in the mud in the downpour and watched his vision come to pass. High on the pinnacle, the Sorcerer stood with his staff held high. And screamed his rage to the boiling heavens.
“God help us,” he whispered.
But there was only the Sorcerer to save them. And that was far from a sure thing.
When the lightning struck the Sorcerer’s staff, Nick witnessed a sight he’d never forget—should he live to recall it. Kalen harnessed the fury of the storm, took it into himself, and released it in an explosion that lit the sky as though it were a brilliant summer day.
All around him bodies were blown to bits. Nick scrabbled for purchase and fell.
Fell, thinking he’d never know how the story ended.
And then there was nothing.
* * *
Mac heard a powerful scream of rage and peeked out the window again. Kalen stood on the peak facing down Malik. Lightning struck his staff and he channeled the storm into a tool.
The combatants froze in awe—
And then the world was blown away.
* * *
Opening his body as a conduit for the storm, Kalen raised the staff high and screamed his rage. “Help me! Fucking help me!”
But he was alone in this. Just him and the elements. He welcomed the lightning and it didn’t disappoint him, streaking from the sky as he’d summoned and striking the end of his staff with such force he was nearly blasted from his perch.
But he held firm, harnessing the white light. Because he’d heard somewhere that only light could drive out the darkness. From Sariel? Or someone else?
He used that now, his sole weapon against Malik and the masses of Sluagh below. The Unseelie was the first to realize that his doom was near and made a lunge for Kalen. He didn’t make it.
The lightning shot from Kalen’s body to Malik’s and lit it up so that the Sorcerer could see every bone and organ inside. And then the Unseelie screeched, long and loud—the awful noise ending as he exploded into a million tiny particles to be washed away in the downpour.
A fitting end to the bastard’s terrible reign.
No time to celebrate that victory. The Sluagh were next. The Sorcerer channeled the storm at the ugly minions, his own insides burning. His guts, lungs, heart. He could literally feel them starting to boil, the raw, brutal fury of the lightning taking a toll on him as well. But he kept going, long past what any normal human would have been able to withstand. Because he wasn’t human.
He was Fae. A Sorcerer. A brother. A mate.
A father.
For the first time in his life, he embraced what and who he’d become. For all of his loved ones, he could do this. They were worth any price. He would die, and it would be okay. The Sluagh froze in confusion, perhaps barely gleaning the loss of their leader when they, too, began to sizzle like bacon. And they exploded, hundreds of them, with such force that his brothers and the remaining soldiers were hurled to the ground. Stunned, many injured, but all right.
It was over.
Kalen Black had finally done something truly good. He’d fought the evil and won, had severed the bond of darkness between himself and Malik. He’d protected his own, and that’s all he wanted. His mate and baby were safe. Now he could let go.
His heart stuttered in his chest, the agony tearing him apart. He couldn’t breathe. His knees buckled and he collapsed, falling through space, as the darkness took him.
* * *
Mac sat up, ears ringing, trying to clear her head. What had happened? The explosion!
She gazed out the SUV’s window and spied the Pack guys and some soldiers struggling to sit up. Malik and the Sluagh were dead. She started to smile.
Then she saw Kalen’s knees fold. Dropping the Sorcerer’s staff, he collapsed, his duster fluttering around him as he tumbled from the summit.
Flinging open the door, she practically fell from it and ran. “Kalen!”
Slipping in the mud, she ran on, screaming his name again and again. She hit a slick spot and couldn’t catch herself, went sprawling. Before she could get up, Nick and Sariel were there, helping her to sit up. She tried to pull away, but they held her fast.
“Wait!” Sariel ordered. “I need to check and see if you are all right.”
“No! Kalen needs me!”
“The baby needs you too. Hold still.”
That got her to cooperate long enough for Sariel to pronounce her and the baby safe. “Okay, help me find him! I saw him fall over there somewhere.”
“We’ll look together,” Nick said. He shared a grim look with the prince.
Mac’s pulse jumped, and her lungs seized. She had to find him. They picked their way through the debris-strewn field, the men holding her on each side. Others were up on their feet now, ignoring their own injuries to help in the search. Calling for Kalen.
She spotted him and cried out, jerking from their grasp, and ran. Her mate was lying on his back, unmoving. The rain had trailed off to a soft patter, and steam was rising from his battered and scorched leather duster, from his limbs and black hair. His eyes were closed, his face still and white.