Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            “Lowe.” Father’s voice is nearly welcoming. “I was waiting for you.”

            “I don’t doubt it,” Lowe replies. His deep voice reverberates in the large room, filling it in a way a dozen people hadn’t managed. “It appears you had a plan all along, Councilman Lark.”

            “Not all along. You know, you are a very hard man to thrall. I tried during our only meeting alone, after the marriage ceremony. Usually I’ll be able to hook into a Were or a Human in a matter of seconds, but with you, it simply didn’t work. How frustrating.” He sighs and points to Mick. “I told myself that it didn’t matter. I had infiltrated your inner circle anyway. And yet, I still was unable to get my hands on your sister. And now that you’ve hidden her, I have been unable to find out where. I simply never managed to get any real leverage on you. Until now.” He smiles at Owen. “Thank you for bringing him to me, son. I certainly consider this proof of your loyalty.”

            Owen’s eyes shine with pride. I clench my teeth. “Lowe is never going to give you Ana.”

            “A month ago, I would have agreed with you. But Mick explained a few things to me. Including what his reaction to you at the wedding meant. The concept of mates.” Father comes to stand in front of me, one hand clasping my shoulder. “Your usefulness truly knows no bounds.”

            “You are unbelievable.” I shake his touch away, disgusted.

            “Am I?”

            “Yes. And mistaken.” I lean forward, taunting him, suddenly powerful in the heartbreaking knowledge that he’s wrong. “I’m not Lowe’s mate. Whatever leverage you think you have, it’s not—”

            “Is she not, Lowe?” Father asks, suddenly louder. He’s still holding my eyes. “Your mate?”

            I stare back, waiting for Lowe’s answer, waiting to see the disappointment in my father’s eyes. Hoping it’ll make the one I experienced earlier tonight less bitter. But time ticks on by. And Lowe’s reply just temporizes, hangs back, hesitates, and never comes.

            When I turn to him, he’s at once blank and profoundly, indelibly sad.

            “Tell him,” I order. But he still doesn’t speak, and it feels like a slap to my face. My lungs seize, and suddenly I cannot breathe. “Tell him the truth,” I whisper to him.

            Lowe runs his tongue over the inside of his cheek, and then presses his lips together in a small, sad smile.

            Something inside me trembles.

            “Now that it’s settled,” Father says dryly. “Lowe, Mick informs me that no one but you knows where Liliana is hidden. I want her—don’t worry, not to dispose of her. Just like I didn’t dispose of Miss Paris when I had the opportunity.” He stops to give Serena a small smile, as if expecting gratitude. I envision her spitting on him and being promptly murdered by three enforcers. “All I want is assurance that Humans and Weres won’t join forces against the Vampyres. And that starts with not giving them a reason to believe they’re more similar and compatible than they thought.” Father turns to Lowe one last time. “Make arrangements to hand over your sister.”

            Lowe nods slowly. And then asks with a genuinely curious tone, “And I would do that, because . . . ?”

            “Because your mate will request it.”

            Lowe exhales a silent laugh. “You know my mate very little, if you really think she would request anything like that.”

            Lowe doesn’t get a verbal response. Instead Father reaches forward. He moves so fast, the air shifts with momentum, and the next instant something cold, shiny, and very sharp appears next to my neck.

            He’s holding one of Vania’s knives. To my throat.

            Lowe, Owen, Serena—even Mick, they all attempt to reach for me, but are restrained by Father’s enforcers, and when the tip of the blade grazes my skin they stop at once, with equally terrified expressions on their faces. The silence that follows is overstrung, filled by loud heartbeats and heavy breathing.

            “No,” Father says calmly. The hand holding the knife is steady. “In normal conditions, she wouldn’t ask. But what if she had to choose between her life or Liliana’s future? What then?”

            “He’s bluffing. He’s not going to kill me,” I tell Lowe, hoping to reassure him.