Kael detonated through the flap, blade aimed at a seated man’s neck.
Guinevere rocketed out of her chair and inserted herself directly between her father and his sudden death. Draven’s blade clattered behind her.
She was exactly where she needed to be to save Renwick and exactly where she shouldn’t be for everything that came next.
Kael stopped mid-swing, the edge touching her arm.
"Honey. We talked about this."
"He’s a wolf, Kael."
She left out the fact he was her father. Earlier when she mindlinked Kael, she hadn’t decided if she was going to reveal her father’s identity. So she made the split-second decision.
"We’re doing this again? Really?" Kael looked at her the way a parent looks at a toddler climbing the same counter for the third time. "By all means, keep standing between me and someone I’m trying to kill."
"I was correct last time too," she replied.
Kael did not argue. He agreed. Nicholas Shadowfell had proven useful in the same way a loaded crossbow pointed at your enemy’s balls was useful.
Behind her, Renwick moved at Alpha speed. One cuff snapped over her left wrist. Her right arm was wrenched back, locked to it, and, by the time she understood what had happened, he was standing, blade drawn at her neck. The silver seared into her skin immediately.
Kael’s blade had already moved, to her father’s throat.
Nothing says thank-you-for-saving-me like silver handcuffs and a sword to the jugular. The laugh wanted out.
Screw anonymity.
"Charming, Father. Even for your standards. Well played. I hope that it’s worth the price."
She didn’t need to glance at him to know he was shocked. The most powerful act of rebellion she could have committed was done: she said ’father’ in front of witnesses while speaking out of turn. Next time she spoke, she was going to use a curse word too.
Kael’s eyes dropped to her for a fraction of a second on the word father, but immediately returned to Renwick.
Guinevere reached for her flame, but it didn’t come. Fantastic.
"Lower your weapon, Ashenvale," Eron ordered from somewhere behind her.
Kael rolled his eyes. "He’s not going to kill his own daughter. So let’s skip the theatrical hostage bullshit and get to the part where someone explains why the Wolf King is hiding in a Solandris tent playing family backstab-bondage."
Renwick’s blade didn’t move an inch. "You don’t get answers. You get a choice: leave, or I make this very complicated. And trust me, I’m extremely good at complicated."
"It’s already complicated as fuck," Kael fired back. "Daughter in cuffs, Beta in shock, me with a blade and a bad attitude. We passed complicated the second I walked in, grandpa."
"Oh for the love of—" Guinevere snapped. "Let’s refocus, starting with why the hell am I cuffed, Father?"
’Hell’ and ’Father’ in the same breath. It brought Guinevere joy. Next up: double curse words in the same sentence.
Renwick ignored her.
"Honey," Kael said lightly. "What did I tell you about cutting into conversations while the grown-ups talk? This doesn’t concern you right now."
"Oh, of course," Guinevere replied. "Please, continue. This clusterfuck isn’t going to fuck itself."
And there it was. Two curse words. One sentence.
Neither of them spared her a glance.
"Let me make this very simple," Renwick said, voice low. "My blade stays on her until your blade hits the floor. That’s the only offer on the table. Yes or no. Clock’s ticking."
"Clock’s ticking?" Kael echoed. "You’re the one with a blade to your daughter’s throat and you’re giving me ultimatums? We come full circle to the fact you aren’t going to kill your daughter, Lunaris. She’s too expensive."
Renwick chuckled darkly. "Too expensive to kill. Not too expensive to bleed. There’s a margin, boy. I live in it."
"What’s the going rate for selling out your daughter these days? Inflation must be a son-of-a-bitch."
"How much are you willing to lose calling my bluff?" Renwick replied. "Now drop the fucking blade. Your window is rapidly closing."


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