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Wrath’s eyes were twin flames of gold as he stood over me, surveying the damage done to my body. The temperature dropped impossibly colder. His anger had reached its limit.

My twin, the werewolves, they’d better retreat before he obliterated them. He reached for me, then dropped to his knees. Blood blossomed across the front of his shirt. He looked down, brows tugged close, as if he couldn’t believe it, either. A glowing blade protruded from his chest.

“Wrath!” I scrambled up, ignoring the tearing sensation as my wound split further and I gripped him, wrapping my body protectively around his. “It’s all right.” My hand fluttered over his wound. “I’ll take it out. You’ll heal.”

“You know.” Vittoria stood behind Wrath, yanking the dagger from his back without remorse. “So many people are searching for the Blade of Ruination…”

I looked from the wound that was still furiously bleeding to my twin. Wrath said the hexed blade could kill him, and my sister stabbed him through the heart with a blade that clearly did damage. Wrath usually healed within an instant. He’d also said he could sense it when it was near, but he’d been distracted. Because of me.

His bronze skin was rapidly going pale, but his fury was unmatched as he held my gaze. “Your cloak.”

I gave him a look indicating the dagger had clearly affected his common sense. There was no chance in this realm or any other that I’d leave him like this.

“Fix him.” I glanced up at my sister. “Fix him now!”

Vittoria appeared to consider my demand. She shrugged. “No.”

“Vittoria.” My breathing became faster, erratic. “You would deny me this?”

She signaled to the wolf that must be Domenico, and he sank his teeth around my shoulder, hitting the wound on my chest as he yanked me backward. Pain overtook my senses. And the werewolves used the distraction to form a barrier between me and my husband.

I shoved past the agony and stepped to the snarling wolves. “Stop this. Vittoria, juststop. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Maybe I want to watch him bleed. How does that make you feel, Emilia? Mad?”

Vittoria kicked Wrath’s back, right where the blade had struck, and he coughed up blood.

“Angry?” She hit him in the temple with the hilt of the dagger, hard enough that it would have killed a mortal, based on the loud crack alone. He winced as blood poured down his face but didn’t cower. Something was definitely wrong or else he would fight back. “Or furious?”

“Stop!” I screamed.

“What will it take to wake your magic?” Vittoria grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat as she pressed the blade there. “This?”

Whatever that dagger was, it had done extreme damage to him. If she cut his throat, if I lost him… I detonated. That ancient power, that slumbering beast—it woke with a vengeance at the sight of Wrath’s blood. I didn’t bother holding it back. I didn’t grasp for control.

I let go.

And fury overwhelmed my senses entirely. I became a pillar of rose-gold flame. The air turned scorching hot, though a protective ring flared up around me, Wrath, Vittoria, and Domenico. Everything else except for Wrath’s hounds and horses… burned.

Wolves yelped, and the ones not fast enough to leave caught fire. The stench of burnt fur wafted through my barrier, the sickly sweet scent of charred flesh following. Vittoria watched with great interest but said nothing as my power raged even hotter.

The snow and ice turned to puddles, the river water boiled beneath us, wolves farther away blinked out of existence, returning to the Shadow Realm. The stones on the bridge began to melt. In seconds, we’d fall into the steaming water, our flesh boiled from our bones.

I didn’t care. I’d take my sister with me. My need for vengeance was an unquenchable thirst I couldn’t satiate. I’d take them all and then—

Sleet pelted me suddenly, the icy sting of hundreds of frozen drops briefly snapping me out of my trance. Wrath’s fingers clasped mine, squeezing once before his grip went limp. I dropped my power, then I went to my knees, cradling him against me.

“Of course the Blade of Ruination has been impossible to find,” Vittoria finished, tossing the blade aside. “Which is why I had to resort to poison instead. Being the goddess of death has its perks. It took some time to get the potion correct, but I made something strong enough to take down an immortal.”

It took a second for my brain to catch up from my emotions and piece together what she’d been saying. I jerked my attention to my sister. “You didn’t find the Blade of Ruination?”

“Not yet.” Vittoria sighed dismally. “Though lying about it worked just as well, all things considered.” That was why Wrath hadn’t sensed it. It was all a fucking ruse. My fury took hold of me again, but before I could unleash myself, my twin raised her arm and made a squeezing motion with her hand. “Sleep.”

My heart slowed. Panic seized me as I realized there was no way I could help Wrath or myself now. My head hit the ground with a crack. I stared unblinking at my husband, who seemed to have rallied and was shouting my name.

His face was the last thing I saw before the world went dark.

I awoke to the sound of fire crackling, though cool dampness permeated the air instead of warmth. It smelled of turned earth. Like a grave. The very ones Nonna used to take us to each full moon so we could collect dirt to bless our amulets and ward off the devil. My husband.


Tags: Kerri Maniscalco Kingdom of the Wicked Fantasy