How many from the other Sector Libraries died for his dark cause? How could he watch on as the people that stood by his side for probably years died at the hands of his blind belief? Some Interitus…a group I would soon destroy for threatening what's mine.

He was a traitor…he didn't deserve to live for his crimes.

A gurgling sound erupts from his throat, his effort at a snicker as he sits within my grasp, a look of unfound confidence in his black eyes.

“You’ll burn.” His fully blackened eyes glisten with his mocking words.

My restraint snaps. I tighten my grasp around his neck, his eyes going wide as he sees the rage in my own and the reality of the impending death before him.

My grip tightens, pulling the last of the air from his deformed body.

Suddenly a hand gently clasps my shoulder, a velvety voice close to my ear, as warmth envelopes my back.

Lucien.

“We’ll get nothing from a corpse, little doe. The dead don't tell tales.” He glances toward the creature in my hands, his nose scrunching in distaste at its grotesque appearance.

He was right. It would be better to pull all the information we could from him first.

He slides his hand down my arm and places it on top of mine. His breath heats my neck as he looks at the foul creature.

“These hands shouldn’t have to touch something so…filthy.”

I loosen my grip, the grotesque beast falling to the floor instantly.

Lucien glances toward the gasping creature crumbled at my feet, a poison-tipped gaze flitting between the creature and my empty hand. He narrows his eyes on my hand and, placing his own in his suit jacket, pulls out a black silk handkerchief. He swaddles my hand in it, holding it in his two large palms, gently rubbing any traces of the vile beast away from my skin.

A satisfied look fills his face as he removes the handkerchief. Having served its purpose, he throws it away, no more than a tainted rag now.

“Much better.” His thumb gently strokes my wrist, his large hands encasing mine in his own.

My brows furrow as I watch him, his gaze as soft as silk, languid yet magnetic, not allowing me to turn away from him.

Movement from beside us drags me back to reality and from his gaze as Gregori tries to make his escape, heading toward the stairs.

His mangled claws reach for the first step of the stairway before he suddenly crumbles to the floor. A howl more painful and soul-destroying, leaves his deformed lips than when he shattered his claws.

Frozen on the spot, he trembles, his eyes clouded over, only whimpering and keening as his body shakes and writhes in agony.

Lucien smoothes out his suit jacket as I point toward the whimpering beast and raise a questioning brow at him.

“Was that you?” I look toward the beast again, wondering how he was in so much pain.