Back in Brian’s hideout, Olivia sat on a chair beside the bed, looking relaxed, casually spinning a leather whip around her fingers while staring down at the unconscious form of her husband.
She had come back to him after dropping Kira at the borders of Dravengard, and she had kept him under, dosed and sleeping, while she sat with her own thoughts and worked out exactly what she wanted to do with him.
She had found the divorce papers he’d left behind. The apology letter, too, was written in his own hand, full of remorse and promises.
All of it offered her everything he owned, begging her to take the compensation, sign the papers, and move on with her life in peace while he ran away with another man’s wife.
But Olivia was not the sort of woman to simply pocket the compensation, nod politely, and walk away into a quiet new life.
Oh, no. She wasn’t going to let him buy his way out of years of disrespect. She had spent a very long time being the quiet, submissive wife, and now she was going to make sure he experienced every single ounce of pain he had ever inflicted on her.
Brian, who was currently lying flat on his stomach with his face squished against the mattress, let out a low groan.
His muscles twitched as the sedative slowly began to wear off, and his consciousness returned in blurry waves.
His eyes fluttered open, his vision completely distorted as he spotted the silhouette of a woman sitting on the chair right next to him.
For one foolish, hopeful moment his fogged brain decided it was Kira.
"Kira...?" he mumbled into the pillow.
Then the scent reached him. It was familiar, but not the one he wanted.
His eyes snapped open, and there sat Olivia.
Brian blinked at her, his mind scrambling to catch up. "Where’s Kira?" he rasped.
"Kira’s gone," Olivia replied smoothly, not even blinking. "She’s probably back in her husband’s arms by now. You missed the entire departure."
"He is not her husband!" Brian barked and tried to bolt upright, only to discover he couldn’t.
His wrists were cuffed and chained, bound fast to the bed with the very same silver chains he had used on Kira for three long days.
Bewilderment flooded his face. He yanked at the chains, then stared at her. "What is this? What’s the meaning of this, Olivia?"
Olivia rose slowly from her chair, drew back the whip and brought it down across his clothed back. Once. Twice. Three times.
"AAARGH!" Brian cried out in pain, his whole body jerking against the chains. "What the fuck has come over you?!"
Olivia calmly stepped back, letting out a satisfied sigh as she inspected the leather tip.
"That," she said, her voice completely casual, "is my official retaliation for all the lovely times you decided to slap me across the face whenever you were having a bad day."
"What?"
"One for each," she continued ignoring him, "though I’m afraid I’d be here all week if I counted them all properly."
Before Brian could get out another word, the whip came down again. And again. And again, each crack pulling a fresh howl from his throat.
Olivia exhaled and paused, almost thoughtful.
"And that," she said, "is for all the emotional torture. Every cold word. Every cruelty. Everything you and that monster of a father of yours put me through, day after day, while I just took it and smiled."
"What do you want from me?" Brian gasped, his face pressed into the mattress, his back burning. "What the fuck do you want, Olivia?"
Olivia laughed, soft and entirely without warmth.
"Want?" she said. "Oh, it’s nothing complicated. I just want us to be even, Brian, and for you to know that you’re not the only mad person here. That’s all. Just even."
And she brought the whip down again, and Brian cried out in pure agony.
***
By dawn, Derek stood at the edge of the terrace, his arms crossed, pacing its length back and forth like something caged. Declan leaned against the wall near the entrance door, silent, watching him.
He had searched all night. He and his gammas had picked up Kira’s scent and trailed it deep into the woods, following it through shrub and shadow, until, without warning, it had simply vanished.
As though she had been lifted clean off the face of the earth. No trace of her. No trail. No scent at all.
He could not understand it. A scent did not simply end like that. Unless something, or someone, had made it end.
As he paced, the roar of a sports engine broke the silence. Kai’s car came tearing into the driveway, the tyres screeching loudly as he slammed on the brakes.
Kai climbed out, dishevelled, his clothes rumpled, his face drawn and grey.
Derek didn’t wait. He practically marched down the terrace stairs, meeting his cousin halfway on the gravel driveway.
"What’s up?" he demanded, his voice tight with desperation. "Was she there? Where is she?"
Kai didn’t even look him in the eye. He just started to walk right past the King. "Fuck off, Derek," he muttered under his breath, stepping toward the stairs.
Derek’s anger flared white-hot. His hand shot out and seized Kai by the collar, hauling him close, a growl building low in his chest. "I asked you a question. You will answer it. Now."
Kai turned his head and looked at him, and his eyes were full of blood and fury.
"Oh, you want answers now?" Kai hissed, his voice trembling with rage. "What do you care? Look at you. Fuming like an angry bull ready to gore a matador. As if you weren’t the one who did all of this. As if you weren’t the one who tore Kira to pieces with your own mouth, over your own stupid, blind fury."
Derek’s hand trembled with the effort of not driving his fist into his cousin’s face. His beast was roaring for dominance, but he forced it down.
"Don’t," he warned, low and dangerous. "Don’t test my patience, Kai."
"Or what?" Kai shot back, refusing to drop his gaze. "You’ll beat me into a pulp? Drive me out too? Go on, then. Add me to the list. You’re getting rather good at it."
Declan pushed off the wall and stepped toward them. "Alright, that’s enough."
But Derek would not release Kai’s collar, and Kai would not lower his eyes.
"Kai," Declan said, trying for calm. "Just answer the question. Is the Queen with her friend, in the Central? Did she go to Jessica?"
Kai rounded on him. "How could they possibly be there, Declan? After he terrified them both half to death?"
He jerked his chin back at Derek. "You want to know what I found, when I went to the house where I’d hidden my mate? She’s gone. Her, her whole family, all of them. They vanished like smoke on the wind."
His voice cracked. "Not a trace left behind." He stared at Derek, his eyes burning. "So I hope you’re happy with yourself, cousin. Now that you’ve managed to destroy everything."
With that, Kai slapped Derek’s hand away from his collar and stepped back.
Derek said nothing.
He had hoped, prayed even, in whatever small part of him still knew how, that Kira had somehow found her way to Jessica. That the two of them were together, safe, hidden somewhere he could eventually reach.
But hearing now that Jessica had vanished too, that the one place Kira might have run to was empty, sent a cold dread crawling down his spine.
Kai marched up the terrace steps toward the main entrance. But just as his hand wrapped around the door handle, he paused and spoke without turning around.
"I’m leaving Dravengard today," he said. "And I hope I never have to set eyes on you again, Derek. You can deal with your own fucking mess, by yourself."
He pulled the door open and walked into the house.
Derek said nothing at all.
He simply stood there on the terrace as the dawn broke grey and cold over the ruined estate, and for the first time, he truly understood the shape of what he had done.