Mace sat quietly in the darkness. It was light outside, but the heavy brocade curtains cast the room in shadow. The ton were the real vampires, up all night and sleeping all morning. Silas dozed in the center of the large bed, bare-chested, arms cast wide, not the least bit guarded in his sleep. Despite everything, Silas still trusted that Mace would do what was right, that he could be trusted, even after Mace confessed everything. His gaze fell to the small writing desk in the corner, thinking of the white box buried in the back, holding what remained of Anastasia. Thinking of what she’d endured because of him robbed him of his breath until his vision swam. So he didn’t think of her, couldn’t bear to think of her. Finn Rafferty was a monster, and Mace had placed his sisters in his lair.

Silas had been slumbering for hours, but still, Mace sat, dagger in hand, watching, trying to compel his feet to move, to make him do what needed to.It shouldn’t be so hard. He’d killed before. Several times, in fact. Mostly evil men, but some who may have been good. He’d never let himself think of that. Finn told Mace that, with each death, it would become easier. And it had…somewhat. Silas wasn’t a good person, not really. But neither was Mace. If anybody should die, it was him.

But that wasn’t an option. Kill Silas or lose Theo too. It was an easy decision but also so very hard. Whenever Mace thought of it, taking the steps needed to plunge the dagger into Silas’s chest, Mace felt paralyzed. He’d done so many things he was ashamed of, but he’d never killed anybody he cared about, had never killed somebody known to him. He didn’t want to do this. Why hadn’t he just asked Silas sooner and trusted him enough to ask? Maybe Mace could have gotten them away from Finn before…

Tears filled Mace’s eyes as he forced himself to think of Asa and the similar fate that waited for Theo if he didn’t do this. He sucked in a breath. He had no choice. He had to do it. Before he lost his nerve again. He cared for Silas, but somewhere, Finn held Mace’s baby sister; he couldn’t begin to imagine what Finn would do to her if Mace failed. He stood, crossing the room, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed as his knees gave out, causing Silas to stir. He blinked up at Mace, with a confused frown. “Are you unwell? Can you not sleep, sweets?”

Mace stroked Silas’s cheek as he’d done to Mace countless times in the past weeks. “I’m…” He couldn’t continue, just plunged the blade deep. Silas’s eyes went wide as it sank into his heart, but it was Mace whose voice caught on a sob. He released the knife handle as if it burned him, holding Silas’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to do this. I had no choice. I had no choice.” Mace said it again and again, but Silas couldn’t hear. There was no life behind his eyes.

There was a jarring laugh from somewhere behind Mace. “There’s always a choice.”

Mace whipped around at Finn’s voice. He leaned against the door, arms folded across his chest. “Finally. I thought you were going to wait all day.”

Mace turned back to Silas, touching his face again. Despite the blood beginning to pool beneath him, he didn’t look dead. Mace could almost believe Silas was sleeping.

“Oh, this is just so very touching. You cared for him, didn’t you? It’s just so typical of your kind. Clinging to anybody who even shows you a scrap of kindness, even when they’re only using you.”

“Don’t,” Mace whispered. “Please, just don’t.”

Finn’s mouth dipped in a frown that didn’t meet his eyes. “Oh, pet. I don’t mean to mock your grief. You know how much it pains me to see you suffer. It’s why I’m here. I knew how difficult this would be for you.”

Mace stood, moving to the far side of the room, away from Silas, away from Finn. “You needn’t have bothered,” Mace said, refusing to look at the bed. Refusing to look at what he’d done.

Finn shook his head, taking a step towards Mace. “I promise you, in just a few moments, you won’t feel that way. In fact, you won’t feel anything ever again, as promised.” Mace couldn’t help but take a step back.

A woman slipped from the shadows and joined Finn. She was slight of build, with features like an expensive porcelain doll, but she carried herself like a queen. She had long silver hair, which she wore unbound, and silver eyes that glowed in the shadows. Finn beamed at the girl. “Balthazar, allow me to introduce you to Lux. Lux was once like you, a human with fae blood.”

Mace eyed the girl warily. “What is she now?”

“Now she’s something more. Something powerful. And she’s going to share that with you. Aren’t you, Lux?

“If it pleases you, sire.”

Finn grinned, running his fingers through the girl’s silver hair. “It does. It pleases me very much.”

She advanced on Mace, standing on tip-toes to reach his lips. He flinched backward. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t be afraid. It doesn’t hurt.”

“What doesn’t?”

“This,” she murmured, as her lips brushed his. It took a moment for him to understand she wasn’t kissing him. He didn’t know what she was doing, but it felt a little like she was stealing the breath from his lungs. She laid a hand on his chest, pressing him back against the wall with a strength there was no way she could possess.

Whatever she did, it made him woozy, like when the witches would bleed him, causing his eyelids to flutter as he fought to maintain consciousness. “What are you doing?” he asked again.

“Feeding,” she whispered. “Soon you’ll feed like this as well.”

Mace’s eyes fell to Finn over the girl’s shoulder and then to Silas, lying on the bed, so very still, blade still buried to the hilt.

“It’s almost done,” she informed Finn.

“Excellent, before she relieves you of that last bit of humanity, I wanted to let you know that I may have embellished my little tale from earlier.”

Mace’s heartbeat pounded in his skull. Had he killed Theo as well? Had all this been for nothing? “What?”

Finn smiled. “Anastasia lives. You could have had Silas and the girls. You could’ve had everything you wanted. But now I have your sisters, and Silas is dead.”

“You promised…you promised you wouldn’t hurt them.”

“Yes, I did. Stay far away from London, Mace. In fact, stay out of Europe. Perhaps visit America, I hear it’s a wild place.” Finn moved closer. “If you stay far from here, I’ll let them live. I’d ask you to promise, but your word will mean nothing in a moment.” He laughed. “Of course, your sisters will mean even less.”

Mace tried to struggle, but it was too late. He could feel the last bit of…something…draining from him as he lost consciousness.

He woke next to a corpse. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but since the body was still intact, he surmised he couldn’t have slept overly long. He rose, stretching, twisting his neck one way and then the other before flinging the drapes wide. It was dark again. Outside, the London streets were teeming with people in their finery. There was a world out there waiting for him.

Finn wanted him out of England. Maybe he would try the Americas. Mace wanted a new adventure. But, he couldn’t do that without funds. Mace took in the body with disinterest. Silas no longer had any use for material things. Mace went to the safe, removing everything of value and closing it again. He caught his reflection in the large, beveled mirror in the corner, grinning as he moved closer. His hair was silver, like the girl’s, shot through with strands of white, his blue eyes now silver. He wondered where she’d gone. He had so many questions for her.

But first, he needed to eat.

Where was Horace? Mace was starving.