Page 38 of Incoronate
“My word,” drawled Annabelle, her eyes narrowed on me. “Would you look at that.”
And bythat, she meant me and the visible poison overtaking my body.
Anita hummed in agreement.
I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why Dominic had brought them here. They were literally the last three people on earth I ever expected to see in my living room. Frankly, they were the last three people I ever wanted to see again period.
Especially like this.
Trace carefully helped me into a seated position, one arm braced firmly around my back as Gabriel stepped forward, his attention snapping to his brother.
“What the hell is the meaning of this, Dominic?” demanded Gabriel, gesturing to the sisters. “Have you lost your mind entirely?”
Dominic’s didn’t hesitate. “I’m doing what’s necessary.”
“Which is what? Bringing the very people who tried to kill her into our home?”
Dominic snorted. “In case you’ve forgotten, brother, it was not the witches who forced a death sentence into her body. That would be the other side.” His eyes darkened to pitch. “You remember them, don’t you? You’ve certainly dedicated enough of your life to serving them.”
“Ooh,” cooed Annabelle with exaggerated interest. “The martyr and the monster. How positively biblical.”
“Shut the fuck up,” snapped Trace which seemed to elicit a wolfish grin from her as she looked him up and down and then licked her lips like she liked what she saw.
If I wasn’t half dead, I would have throat-punched her.
Gabriel’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t rise to the bait. His attention stayed locked on Dominic. “This is insanity, Dominic. Even for you.”
“No. It’s a change in strategy.” Dominic prowled further into the room, closing the distance between himself and hisbrother. “If the Order is determined to end her by any means necessary, then logic dictates their enemies ought to become our allies.”
I glanced at Anita. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t reacted at all to Dominic’s speech. Just stood there with that same detached expression, like she was watching a play she’d already seen a dozen times.
I didn’t trust her. Not for one second.
“They’re the only ones powerful enough to match the Order’s magic,” continued Dominic as confident and unbothered as ever. “And right now, power is the only language being spoken.”
“And why the fuck would they help us?” asked Trace, his arm still holding me steady despite the strain I could feel in him through our bond. “They don’t do anything unless it benefits them.”
“Precisely,” agreed Dominic, his voice as sweet as honey. “They want to protect the Son of Perdition. And so does she.”
And by she, he meant me. Every eye in the room turned my way.
“The Order and the Horsemen are not going to stop hunting the baby so long as he draws breath,” continued Dominic. “As it stands, the only thing standing in their way is Jemma.” His gaze flicked briefly to me. “Even through compulsion, even while corrupted, her need to protect the child overpowered it. Enough to turn on a Horseman and vanquish him.”
Gabriel went quiet. I watched the shift in his expression and saw the exact moment he understood where Dominic was going with this.
“Naturally,” said Dominic, his voice almost casual, “it would only make sense that we join forces.”
“And what makes you think they can be trusted?” asked Gabriel, though his tone had lost some of its edge.
Anita scoffed at him. “The Order has spent millennia positioning themselves as saviors while systematically eradicating anything they deemed unholy. As you well know. How many covens have they burned? How many supernatural bloodlines have they driven to extinction?” She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room as though we were all exhibit A. “And yet we’re the villains in your story?”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” said Gabriel, not budging.
“Trust has nothing to do with this, brother. Only that we have the same goal. Protecting the child.”
“And what happens when this is over? What’s to stop them from turning on her the second she’s no longer useful?”
“What’s to stop you?” Arianna spoke for the first time, her voice softer than I expected. Musical, almost. She tilted her head, those amber eyes still fixed on me. “She’s already killedmeonce, and yet here I am, standing in your living room, willing to help.”
