FIFTY ONE

FIFTY ONE
BRIGID'S POV

The night bled into dawn. Shadows retreated from the room as pale blue light filtered through half-drawn curtains. My joints had stiffened from sitting motionless for hours and even when my chomped hand has regenerated, I still felt a dull pain where I had been diced. Across from me, Riona's face remained a marble mask, her eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond my shoulder. The silence hummed between us, thick and suffocating.

My fingers twitched toward the gun hidden beneath the cushion. A precaution. A gamble.

If it got bad again, I could shoot her. It would work, right? Could a witch stop a bullet with her magic?

I wanted to convince myself that my grit was the reason I was still alive but I knew damn well the only reason I still drew breath was because of the threat I made about Saraphina.

"So," Riona's voice cracked with disuse, "you have another witch now."

I kept my breathing steady. "The services of witches are expensive."

A sound escaped her. It sounded sharp and bitter. Something that might have been a laugh in another life. "I know. That enchantment I found in your drawer would fetch five grand, minimum." She leaned forward, moonstone eyes catching the dawn light. "I gave you everything I had. For free."

My mind lingered back to Darragh Byrne. Had he been the one to plant the enchantment there? What did he know?

If Riona saw reason, we would dissect it. But she was beyond it. She didn't trust me any longer.

The space between us tightened.

"I broke the laws of the Numinary, Brigid." Her words were barely audible, a hiss that seemed to slither across the floor between us. "Forced a bond. And still, you didn't trust me."

My tongue felt thick. "You know where I come from. Trust is—"

"A luxury," she finished. "Weakness. Yes, I've heard that speech. Only you have it bad."

She uncurled from her chair with the fluid grace of a predator and crossed to the side table where my enchanted bracelet now lay. Her fingers closed around the silver bracelet—the one I'd hoped to use only when I had no other option. With a twist of her wrist, it crumbled. Silver dust sparkled in the air before settling on the hardwood.

My breath caught.

"Whatever we had," she said, dusting her palms, "is dead."

"Don't be dramatic."

She turned, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Your husband's false bond expires in three days unless you shatter whatever spell you put on my daughter."

My heartbeat quickened. "You're threatening me?"

The laugh that burst from her lips made the hairs on my neck stand. Magic rippled off her in waves, making the air taste of ozone.

"I could do more than threaten." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I could rip you apart right here by speaking my truth. I am sure the Alpha would love to know his match of fate was a match of calculation. Or better, I could switch sides. Marion would welcome me. Your house would crumble before sunset."

"You won't," I said, forcing evenness into my tone despite the cold sweat trickling down my spine. "Because you still need me."

Her magic pulsed—wild, untamed—making the lights flicker.

"You want Bastien dead," I continued. "Killian too. Dayo. And Darragh Byrne."

Her nostrils flared. "That is only so I can breathe the same air as my daughter again."

"Yes." I didn't hesitate. "You want her. I want my plans intact. We both win."

"The same daughter you spelled behind my back?" Color flooded her cheeks. "To keep me in check?"

My lips curved into a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "If it makes you feel better, you can spell my children too."

"You don't give a shit about your children." Her words sliced through the air. "Not really. You use them. That's all they've ever been—stepping stones."

My fingers dug into the armrests. "Watch your mouth, Riona."

"No." She took a step closer, the floorboards creaking beneath her weight. "You watch yours. Ronan and Ewan are just pawns to you. If they're useful, fine. If not—" She snapped her fingers.

"You want to know why I did it?" Heat flooded my chest. "Why I bound your daughter? Why I hid things?"

"Enlighten me." Her voice was ice.

"You killed your own mate." The words hung between us. "And you loved him—I saw it in your eyes every time you spoke of him. But when your power takes over, nothing matters. Not loyalty. Not love. Nothing." I swallowed hard. "I saw what it did to you."

Her face paled. "You think I don't remember?"

My voice cracked. "There's a reason they keep you from her."

"To punish me." She retorted

"No," I said softly. "To keep her alive."

She flinched as if I'd struck her.

"They hated you. Your father-in-law most of all." I continued, unable to stop. "But even he believed your daughter deserved a chance. So they made that spell. That horrible, blood-soaked seal that keeps you apart. And I understand why."

Her hands trembled. "Go on. Say it."

"You're an addict," I said simply. "Not just to power. But to the high. The rush when you cast." My voice dropped lower. "You act like you're cursed, but we both know—you like the way it feels. If anything, it is a blessing your daughter didn't inherit your dark gifts."

Something changed in her eyes—a light extinguished. She closed them for a moment, her shoulders sagging.

Her eyelids lifted. The emptiness there made my stomach drop.

"We're done here," she said, voice flat.

"No, we're not."

She turned toward the door, each step deliberate.

"We still need each other," I called after her, panic rising in my throat.

"No, we do not." Her voice was flat, emotionless.

"We're not done," I said, rising to my feet. My legs trembled beneath me, betraying the control I fought to maintain. "We still need each other."

She stopped, one hand resting on the door frame. Without turning, she said, "As long as you're not dead, my daughter is not dead. Is that not what you said?"

The morning light caught in her hair, turning the red strands to fire. When she finally faced me, her eyes were cold.

"I know you just as well as you know me, Brigid." She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. "I know your self-preservation comes first. Always has. So my daughter has never been safer."

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

"So yeah," she continued, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "I am done. I'll find another way to kill the Byrnes and my father-in-law."

The finality in her voice made my blood run cold. This wasn't a negotiation tactic. This wasn't a play for leverage.

"No," I whispered, the word strangled in my throat. "No, no, no."

I crossed the room in three strides, reaching for her. My fingers caught the edge of her sleeve.

"Wait, Riona—"

She jerked away from my touch as if it burned. The air between us crackled with her power, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.

"Please," I said, hating how desperate I sounded. How weak. "Please, don't do this."

Her eyes searched mine, looking for something—truth, perhaps, or genuine remorse. Whatever she sought, she didn't find it.

I stared at the silver dust glittering on the floor, my reflection fractured in each tiny fragment. My only anchor. My only leverage. Gone.

And she meant it. I knew she meant it.

If she found another way—if she aligned with Marion—

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

I was finished.

Not just my plans.

Me.

I was finished.