“No,” Genevieve said quietly. “Celia and Aric’s children will be strong enough to stop him, just as Destiny herself has proclaimed.”

Genevieve didn’t know I couldn’t bear children. But I wouldn’t admit that now, especially if it meant granting Rosaliana even a shred of peace.

“She needs to die, Genevieve!” Rosaliana screamed at her. “They all do. The darkest one has promised unimaginable power to anyone who stops them.”

Genevieve’s perfect face remained impassive yet deadly. Aric was all ire. He released me and prowled toward Rosaliana.

Genevieve intercepted him, placing her staff firmly on the ground in front of him. The base of the staff stirred with pulses of magic and ripples of gold smoke swept along the dirt. Her eyes sparkled, not with their typical wisdom and beauty, but with something darker, deadlier. In a way it seemed wrong for someone so lovely to look so dangerous.

Her voice remained calm, but her magic screamed for vengeance. “No, Aric. Rosaliana is my responsibility. She dies by my hands.”

Rosaliana’s head dropped as she shrieked with rage.

Aric ignored her and shoved his face into Genevieve’s. It may have seemed odd for Genevieve to appear so deadly, but it wasn’t for Aric. My wolf did lethal well. A hideous growl built from Aric’s core and rumbled like the angered Greek gods of ancient myth. “She orchestrated the torture and attempted murder of my mate and her sisters. It’s my damn right to kill her. I will kill her, and if you get in my way—”

I tore Rosaliana’s arm off her body, just like I would a leg from a well-done turkey. The bone snapped cleanly from her shoulder and the muscles and ligaments ripped like wet paper. She screamed. Loudly. The witches who were holding her stepped away, fast.

Blood splattered like a sprinkler as I literally beat her with her own goddamn arm. With each blow I thought of how she caused me to relive my abuse and experience Aric’s death. Her gurgled screams annoyed me. The pain I inflicted couldn’t possibly compare to Shayna’s blade piercing through my sternum.

Why was she yelling? Had she smelled her mate’s skin burn at the hands of her sister’s magic? Had she witnessed her sisters’ torment? Had she experience their nightmares?

No. I had. I’d suffered. And so had those I most loved.

How dare she try to crawl away when I couldn’t escape Emme’s telekinetic grip around my throat or the countless attacks from those I trusted. Because of her, I was almost raped by the man I loved. Because of her, I feared my lover. Because of her so many had perished.

After a few more blows, my weapon became useless. There’s only so much you can do with a severed limb once all the bones have been shattered. Besides, I’d tired of her screeching. I tossed the arm aside and punctured her sternum with my claws.

My methodical actions surprised me. It was as if I was performing a simple task like dusting. But instead of spray, wipe, spray, wipe, I separated her rib cage with my hands and ripped out her heart without bothering to glance at her face. It beat one time in my hand before I tossed it over my shoulder.

Rosaliana’s heart landed with a wet thud by Genevieve’s feet. Genevieve stiffened. To her credit she didn’t so much as cringe, although I could tell she very much wanted to.

I wiped my hands as if they’d been merely coated with dust. “There. That settles that.”

Genevieve’s mouth dropped open. Aric crossed his arms. He watched me closely but said nothing. My freak-out disturbed them both. Not that I could blame them; that was a bit mental even for me.

I stormed away then, away from the clearing and toward the forest, stomping along the snow with more noise than my feet had ever made. I continued walking through the dense trees until I came upon a tiny brook. I fell into it on my hands and knees, weakened, exhausted, and disturbed by my actions.

The water was ice cold, yet surprisingly refreshing. It felt good to feel something other than pure, unadulterated hate. As much as my life had sucked, I never truly hated anyone until Anara forced his way into my life. Since his death, I’d absolutely convinced myself I could never hate so deeply again…then Rosaliana and Tura came along.

Who else would come?

I washed my hands and face and stared at my reflection in the water until the tiny fragments of Rosaliana’s tissue and bits of clotted blood polluted the clear brook. When I finished, I sat on the edge and hugged my knees. My jeans were soaked with water, blood, and God only knew what else. Yet I ignored the chill of the approaching night.

It was a long while until I actually allowed myself to think. I had survived. Again. But although my inner beast was a cat, I didn’t believe I had nine lives to live.

The sun had set when soft steps pressed into the snow behind me. I knew it was Genevieve even before my nose caught her scent. She moved like a graceful swan in water, despite the rough terrain of mountain. “May I sit with you, Celia?”

My jaw clenched tight. “You don’t have to ask. It’s not like I’m going to rip your arms off or anything.”

“Yes. Of course not,” she answered slowly if not nervously.

Genevieve used an elegant hand to tuck her long velvet skirt beneath her, though she kept a firm grip on her staff. When she saw that I’d noticed, she laid it beside the small boulder where she sat. It was a polite demonstration of trust, more out of courtesy than the actual belief that I wouldn’t eat her. I had frightened her. Hell, I had frightened myself. But sometimes a girl couldn’t help but to wig the fuck out.

“I want to apologize to you for what happened.” She sighed. “There’s been a tremendous upheaval within my coven since the war. By taking in more witches who have lost their Leaders, power struggles have caused a lot of needless bickering.”

“Like with you and Betty Sue?”

She quieted for a moment. “Yes, but I see now that Rosaliana had likely played a role in that, too.”

Yeah. She probably had. “Where’s Betty Sue, do you think?”

“She’s dead, Celia,” Genevieve answered. “Aric sent a team to her house. They found her buried in her garden. My guess is she discovered her old friend wasn’t her old friend at all.”

“So the real Delilah’s dead, too?”

Genevieve’s focus dropped to the stream. “She has to be. Rosaliana couldn’t have taken on her identity without killing her. And in taking a pure witch’s form, she was able to mask her own darkness.” She clasped her hands. “We don’t know when it happened. But it was definitely before she came across you the day of the shifter attack.”