Page 159 of Fallen Court

His nostrils flared. “This wasn’t the plan.”

He was part of this. All of this. Shaw, who gave the best advice. Shaw, who made me laugh. Shaw, who had been my friend when I couldn’t so much as tolerate his brother.

A thin smirk played at the corners of Baptiste’s mouth. “Plans change. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Besides, some extra leverage never hurts in a negotiation.”

Shaw took a menacing step toward her. “Leverage? These people are my family. You expect me to just stand by while you threaten them?”

“You wanted to hurt your brother. I’m only here to help.”

“Not like this.” He shook his head, finally daring to look in our direction. I met his eyes, and he flinched. “This ends now. We had an agreement. I help you get to him, and you leave the rest of them out of it. Let them go.”

He might as well have stabbed me. “You can’t do this.” I started to tremble. “He’s your brother.”

“Stay out of it, Cate,” he warned me.

“See?” Baptiste sneered, tossing a curl over her shoulder. “She’ll never forgive you, anyway. Killing her would be doing her a favor. Gods know what Oberon will do when he arrives.”

My legs threatened to buckle, but I kept myself upright.

Baptiste noticed. “That’s right,” she taunted me. “First, we’ll bring down the bona fides and let the Wild Hunt take Lach, and when your precious mate is dead, we’ll hand the Nether Court over to the true king.” She stuck out her lower lip, pretending to pout.

“Mate?” Shaw’s head swiveled toward me. “What is she talking about?”

“Does it matter?” Heat prickled my eyes, but I refused to cry.

But Baptiste barked a laugh. “They didn’t tell you? What a surprise. They kept another secret from baby brother.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, heat rushing to his cheeks.

“She isn’t your friend, Shaw. She never was. Friends don’t keep secrets.” She tried to press her gun into his hands, whispering, “End her.”

A roar tore through the air, and Channing leaped to his feet. He lunged, swiping for her, but she sidestepped him easily.

He stumbled forward, falling to his knees. The club witch raised a hand, and Channing doubled over, thrashing and screaming. A cruel smile twisted the witch’s face as he tortured him.

“Stop it,” I screamed. “You’ve done enough to him.”

“At least we agree on that.” Baptiste flicked a finger to Dante. “Put him out of his misery.”

“No!” I pleaded. “Just take me.”

Dante hesitated, glancing between Baptiste and Channing’s shuddering form. He started to shake his head, his black eyes beginning to lighten.

“I won’t ask twice,” she hissed.

Shaw held up his hands. “There’s no need for that—”

“You don’t give the orders here,” she snapped. “Do it.”

I looked to Shaw, silently begging him to do something, anything to stop this.

But Shaw stiffened, his face a mask of indecision and guilt. He was just as trapped as the rest of us, and his silence would cost Channing his life.

“Channing, I love you,” I called, each syllable so broken I knew he couldn’t understand me, but I had to try. I had to tell him. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so—”

A sickening crack cut me off as Dante wrenched Channing’s head to the side. His body went limp, slumping to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

Something raw and primal tore out of me. “No! Channing!” Sobs racked my body as I collapsed to the floor and began to crawl toward my brother. No one tried to stop me as I gathered him into my arms.