FOUR HOURS EARLIER
Reaper looked like a fairy princess, blond and deceptively delicate, standing with Zaq in the candlelit gazebo.
As they spoke their vows, I swept my gaze over the guests.
Gabriel and Camilla. Rafe and Zoe. Both couples looking crazy in love. Hell, I hadn’t known Princess Zoe could smile like that, and I’d been her stylist—and shadow—for two memorable weeks this summer.
Karoly and Rosemarie Kral were present, of course, and so was Leo de Froulay and a sprinkling of Zaq’s friends, including Prince Brien of the Maritime Vampire Syndicate.
Karoly Kral had gotten his wish. Reaper was officially dead, but her intel, given under an alias that had been ascribed to another slayer, had been enough to pressure the SI Board to grant him a seat on the BOD.
And the woman I knew as Reaper had been reborn as Princess Renata of the Paris Syndicate.
My gaze returned to Prince Brien. His blond hair shone in the moonlight, his square-jawed face solemn. He stood like he was at parade rest, his feet apart, his hands clasped behind his back. Somehow he made it look like the perfect pose—not too casual, not too formal.
Everything about the man was perfect from his symmetrical face with a hint of stubble to his broad shoulders to his long legs. The kind of perfection that made me itch to muss him up.
Like I had that last night in Montreal…
I resolutely focused my attention on Renata, or Ren Kral, as she was known now. Trust Reaper not to appear at her mate ritual in anything resembling a wedding dress. Instead, she wore silver Doc Martens and a short black dress. Her platinum hair was brushed into a simple, shoulder-length style and held back with small, diamond-encrusted clips on each side. A plain white-gold chain encircled her neck.
Zaq gazed at Reaper like he was torn between wanting to worship her and eat her up. And she was literally glowing, she was so in love with him.
They were too adorable; if I were still Lainey Q, I’d sneak a photo of them and post it on Insta.
But I wasn’t Lainey Q anymore. That alias had been buried two months ago. I was here as a server for the company catering the party. The Kral Syndicate had vetted me, of course, but Crow had made sure I passed their background check.
I’d dyed my pink hair black and added a white Cruella de Vil streak. Under my black pants and white shirt I wore a false belly to make me look thick around the middle, and I’d made up my face to look like a woman in her forties. Heavy perfume disguised my scent.
Brien rubbed his nape and glanced around, and I realized I was staring at him again—and that the ceremony had ended.
Zaq and Reaper descended the gazebo steps, holding hands. They were surrounded by people congratulating them.
I filled a tray with blood-wine and carried it around.
Reaper was doing better than okay. Leo de Froulay had claimed her and she’d been welcomed into the Kral family as well. Rosemarie Kral seemed prepared to mother her, and Karoly Kral was smart enough to see she was a two-fer—a built-in bodyguard for Zaq, who was known for traveling without security; and a link to the Paris Syndicate.
Acid filled my throat.
Because I was here to take that away from her. The dagger tucked into a cavity of my false belly was a cold, heavy weight against my stomach.
Crow had recruited me herself to take out Reaper. “She’ll let you get close to her,” she’d said. “You can tell her you have intel about me.”
Crow was furious at how Reaper had betrayed her and SI. Crow didn’t seem to comprehend that she was at fault, that Reaper had been pushed into it by Crow’s fanaticism.
Problem was, I agreed with Reaper, not my alpha. We’d been wrong to go after the Krals, and Reaper deserved a chance at happiness.
Reaper probably didn’t even remember this, but once, long ago, she’d taken a new—and homesick—slayer trainee under her wing, showing me around, practicing marital arts with me during her (rare) free time. She’d even reminded me to stay hydrated so I didn’t pass out from the constant, extreme exertion. And when I mastered something, she was always there with a fist-bump or an approving nod.
The hairs on the backs of my arms raised; Crow was watching from the shadows. She’d said she was there as backup, but I suspected she’d swoop in during the confusion following Reaper’s death and slay as many Krals as she could.
I made up my mind. I put my tray down and returned to the white caterer’s van. The keys had been left in the ignition so it could be moved if necessary.
I climbed into the driver’s seat. Tucking the dagger into a pocket of the door, I started the van and turned it around.
Crow appeared at the passenger-side door, blue eyes glowing in the dark. I unlocked it and she got inside.
Her lips were pulled into an angry line. “What the hell, Twilight?”
“I had to abort the op.”
She gaped at me. “Why? What happened?”
“Not here.” I pulled out of the driveway, drove a few hundred yards down the road. The Krals’ property backed up to a park. We were surrounded by woods. Autumn leaves skittered before the headlights.
I pulled onto the berm and put the van into park.
“Well?” Crow demanded.
My fingers clenched on the steering wheel. I was a human. A highly trained human, yes, but at a disadvantage when fighting supernaturals like Crow. I’d have just one chance to do this.
I reached into the door pocket, palmed the dagger and drove it into Crow’s heart in a single fast move. I didn’t even draw a breath so as not to tip her off.
I hit my target dead-on. Crow’s mouth formed a shocked ‘O.’
I heaved a breath. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Her hand went to the blade’s handle, trying but failing to remove it. “Why?” she croaked.
I looked at her. There were so many things I could say. That Crow had become a zealot who’d lost her moral compass. That I was almost certain she was working on her own, that the BOD hadn’t approved Reaper’s death sentence. That I was sick of the lies and the killing and wanted out.
In the end, all I said was, “Reaper looked so happy.”
Crow’s eyes glazed over. Smoke from her burning body filled the van.
I climbed out of the van and went to her side. Opening the door, I gathered her into my arms and carried her into the woods, where I laid her on the newly-fallen leaves. She’d be ashes within minutes.
I pulled off the false belly and threw it deeper into the woods. The van I left where it was and hiked up the hill to where I’d hidden my motorcycle in the trees.
The last thing I saw were the lights of the Kral mansion in the rearview mirror.
“You’re welcome,” I told Reaper, and aimed my bike for I-95.
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