“It could have been you, Daemon. She could have been you.”

He looked at those gold eyes glazed with madness and took a step back.

Pain. Shock. A moment to make a choice before insane rage eclipsed all ability to think.

Manny’s words, when she finally told him about his father.

So he left. Went to that house you keep visiting, the house you and your mother lived in, and destroyed the study. Tore the books apart, shredded the curtains, broke every piece of furniture in the room. He couldn’t get the rage out. When I finally dared open the door, he was kneeling in the middle of the room, his chest heaving, trying to get some air, a crazy look in his eyes.

When Dorothea betrayed Saetan at Daemon’s Birthright Ceremony, the High Lord had walked away. Because he had known the depth of his rage. Because the boy, like the girl centuries later, would have tried to reach the father, would have gotten caught in the fight.

Would have died.

Saetan’s eyes filled with tears. “It . . . could have . . . been you.”

Here it is, Daemon thought. Here is the cascade of memories that sent a strong man tumbling into the Twisted Kingdom—and almost ignited a cataclysmic rage.

He didn’t think. Didn’t have to think. He threw his arms around his father and held on as Saetan broke down and wept.

“I’m here, Father. I’m here. I’m safe. I’m well. You protected me that day. You walked away and kept me safe.” And please, sweet Darkness, please don’t let him think about what that boy’s life had been like after that day. Not now. “I’m here, Father. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Choices. And taking chances.

While Saetan wept, Daemon quietly descended until he stood in the abyss at the level of the Black.

I am my father’s son. Not much to distinguish between their psychic scents or their power. He was counting on that as he carefully created a link between Saetan’s Black power and his own—and began using his power to absorb Saetan’s, draining them both in the process. Quietly. Carefully. It would leave them both vulnerable, but if he couldn’t bring his father out of the Twisted Kingdom, Saetan wouldn’t have a reserve of Black power, so he would end up tapping into his Birthright Red. Lucivar would be the dominant power coming into that fight—and Lucivar would do whatever needed to be done.

Thinking of his own Birthright Ceremony and the moment of that betrayal, Daemon wondered how much strength and courage a man needed to take that kind of emotional gutting and walk away in order to protect what was held dear.

“I’m here, Father. I’m safe. You kept me safe that day.”

Running out of time. Draining the power faster and faster, hoping he could drain enough.