“Dig out the truth.”
Well, that sounded ominous.
In reality, Dominic just palmed the back of Kiev’s neck and jerked him upright. No claws. No fangs. No pointy weapons.
Instead, pale gold light emitted from the tips of his fingers, and a ring of pure white glowed around his pupils. It was a little eerie, but also kind of cool.
Then Kiev stiffened. His muscles strained. His eyes rolled back in his head, and an animalistic scream ripped from his throat.
Sammy hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot, unsure what to do or if he should intervene at all. Across the room, Chapel met his gaze and shook her head.
A heartbeat later, the scream cut off, replaced by a high-pitched hum that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The lights flickered. A haze distorted the edges of the room.
Behind Dominic, shadows moved inside the mirror.
Slowly, they began to take shape, revealing familiar people and places like reels from a movie. Kiev’s memories.
Transfixed, he watched a hand with long, elegant fingers reach out to toy with the locket around Chandler’s neck. He couldn’t make out what was said, but he recognized the slightly glazed look in Chandler’s eyes.
The scene evaporated, morphing into another. Then another. He recognized old coworkers. Clients who probably spent moretime in the Sky Lounge than they did at home. Flashes of his old apartment—a one-bedroom he shared with three other people.
Suddenly, the memories slowed again, and his mother’s face filled the glass. She looked exactly as he remembered her. Fiery red hair pinned back at her crown. Soft blue eyes that had a way of looking right through people. That arrogant smirk on her red lips.
Then she was gone, the memory dissolving until the mirror reflected only the Mezzanine and his own face back to him.
Sammy blinked and turned away to wipe the moisture from his eyes.
Stupid.
Weak.
He hated how much just an image of her still affected him, and he hated himself for allowing it.
“See?” Chapel sang. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“You really thought she’d sell you the relique?” Dominic scoffed. Releasing the siren, he turned away with a disgusted sneer. “You’re pathetic.”
Kiev shrieked, the sound born of rage and resentment. Grabbing the knife from the cutting board, he held it in front of him and lunged at Dominic.
“Watch out!” Sammy yelled, but it was too late.
The blade pierced his mate’s back, the serrated edge disappearing as it sliced through muscle and sinew between his shoulder blades.
Dominic roared and spun around, blood spraying from his mouth to splatter across the mirror. He reached for the siren, canines extended, but Chapel was faster. Leaping over the bar, she caught Kiev by the throat, her claws slicing through his skin.
One swipe was all it took to end it, and Sammy gaped in horror as the male crumpled, disappearing from sight.
Fuck, he had never seen so much blood.
“Sammy?” Dominic called to him, his voice weak, strained. “Come here.”
He didn’t hesitate. Rounding one of the leather sofas, he hurried across the room, reaching for his mate’s outstretched hand. The moment he made contact, the Mezzanine—and the carnage left behind—vanished, and he found himself standing outside the pack house in Louisiana.
Adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions, he barely even noticed the intense discomfort that accompanied the jump. He felt cold, and his head spun, but that could have been from shock as much as from teleporting.
And Chapel wasn’t with them.
“Are you okay?” Dominic asked, the words laced with effort and pain.