Josiah straightened, pulling the gun from Miranda’s hands. “She knows what’s good for her. She’s going to chain you to the stake.” Josiah pulled out a small metal spray can and soaked Rosalind with liquid. The sharp smell of gasoline burned her nostrils. “You broke one of my teeth,” he said evenly. “And you stabbed me.”

A pale, pink light glowed through the oculus. The sun was beginning to rise, and for the first time Rosalind realized there was someone else in the room. A stream of rosy light fell on Randolph Loring, who sat on one of the benches, watching.

“Are you here to watch the show?” Rosalind asked him, her legs trembling.

Randolph leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The flames will purify you. They illuminate the truth.” He lifted a hand to the sunlight. “Lux in tenebris lucet: light shines in the darkness.”

“Stand in front of the stake,” Josiah said, still pointing the gun. “Miranda will bind you.”

She glared at him. Maybe she could get close enough to kick him right in that injured leg. “No fucking way.”

Josiah pulled the trigger, and pain exploded through her thigh. She moaned, and he unleashed another shot. Agony ripped through her stomach, and she clutched the bleeding wound. I’m going to die here. She staggered back, stumbling over the wood that surrounded the stake.

Josiah drew closer over the marble floor, and her mind blazed with pure panic. Run, Rosalind.

“Stand by the stake,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s how it’s supposed to happen.”

Another gunshot ripped through her ankle, and she whimpered, nearly collapsing. Stand up, Rosalind. Show him you won’t bow to him. Blood seeped from her stomach.

Randolph rose. “This is your chance to atone, Rosalind. This is the only way you will keep your soul. Better that you burn now than suffer an eternal torment in one of the shadow hells.”

The door slammed open. Caine stood in the entrance. His black eyes glinted with ancient, primordial rage.

His sterling aura radiated around him, filling the large space. His magic enveloped Josiah’s body, making him tremble. Josiah still held the gun, but his body stood immobilized. Clutching her stomach, Rosalind shuffled over the floor. She threw a punch to his temple, as hard as she could, though pain screamed through her gut.

Wrath burned through her blood. “You’re a monster, Josiah.” A part of her wanted to bash his skull into the floor, but she didn’t have the strength, plus she’d lose the moral high ground. Still, she could get in one more punch. With a grunt, she slammed her fist into his throat, and he emitted a choking sound.

“Stop it!” Miranda screamed, pulling at her hair. “He promised to protect me!”

Rosalind stumbled back, and the pain she’d been ignoring flooded her body. She clutched her bleeding stomach, ready to collapse.

She watched with awestruck fascination as Caine’s magic forced Josiah’s arm to bend. Grunting, Josiah pressed the barrel against his own head.