Page 5 of Decimation

I take the glass from him, my fingers trembling with rage. I down the whiskey in one gulp, the burn doing little to soothe the fire in my chest.

“That bitch is going to ruin everything my father built,” I say, my voice low and venomous. “Everything my forefathers built.”

Antonio sets his glass down and looks at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and resolve. “There is still time,” he says quietly. “Still things to be done.”

“What?” I demand, my voice rising again. “What can be done?”

Antonio shrugs, his expression unreadable. Zayn moves his chair forward, his voice calm but firm. “Konstantine is young,” he says. “Foolish. If he doesn’t learn, then we can fix this later. We just have to wait.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Zayn hesitates, his gaze flicking to Antonio before settling on me. “Once Konstantine has a son,” he says slowly, “and that son is of age, then if it is necessary, the Guardians can step in and force a transition.”

I stare at him, my mind reeling. “You’re talking about overthrowing my brother,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. If anyone hears us, hears this then we are done for, and rightly so.

Zayn nods, his expression grim. “If it comes to that.”

I shake my head, my thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. “I don’t want to betray him,” I say, my voice trembling. “Despite everything, he is still the Grand Master. He is still put in his place by God. We shouldn’t challenge that.”

When I say that, both Antonio and Zayn look relieved, as if they had feared I might turn on Konstantine. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I am bound to my brother,” I say, my voice firm. “We shared a womb together. No matter what Konstantine does, I will always stand by him.”

Antonio nods, his expression softening. “We know,” he says quietly.

I sink back into my chair, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The room is silent except for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. I close my eyes, trying to calm the storm raging inside me.

“What happens now?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

Antonio sits down across from me, his expression thoughtful. “Now,” he says, “we wait. And we watch.”

I nod, though the thought fills me with dread. I know that whatever happens next, it will change everything. I can only hope that when the time comes, I’ll be strong enough to face it.

The fire crackles, casting flickering shadows on the walls. I sit in silence, the weight of my brother’s betrayal heavy on my shoulders. And I wonder, not for the first time, if I’ll ever be able to forgive him.

Iwatch them from across the terrace, nursing a glass of whisky that’s gone warm in my hand. The ice melted an hour ago, but I haven’t moved from this spot. I haven’t been able to tear my eyes away from the spectacle unfolding before me.

Konstantine has his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as they laugh at something one of the senators said. The dress she is wearing is backless and I can see from how her perfect skin glistens in the sun that she hasn’t been tested, hasn’t been purified by the Guardians. We can all see it.

It’s an insult. An abomination.

They spit in the face of all our history, our rituals, our heritage.

Did she beg him not to endure it? Or was he so pathetically protective of her that he would risk insulting God himself just to keep her happy?

She tilts her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat and even from here, I can see the way his fingers tighten possessively on her hip. The way his entire body angles toward her like she’s the sun, and he’s nothing but a planet caught in her gravitational pull.

It’s fucking nauseating.

Ines catches my stare and smiles, one of those dazzling, practiced things that probably works on everyone else. Her blue eyes, startlingly bright against her brown skin, hold mine for a beat too long before she whispers something in Konstantine’s ear. He glances over, and for a moment I’m looking at my own face. Same sharp jawline, same brown hair falling past our shoulders, same dark eyes that our father used to say could see straight through to a person’s soul.

Except Konstantine’s eyes don’t see shit anymore. Not when it comes to her.

He raises his glass in my direction, that easy grin spreading across his face.

I return the gesture because he’s my brother, and because if I don’t then she will win, won’t she? But I slither away all the same, wandering to the shade, to where I no longer have to endure them.

And I drain the rest of my whisky in silence. In peace too.

“You’re being rude.”