"Missed me, Kitten?"
Ezaar's voice echoed through the execution hall. Evangeline's lips parted, her chains rattling slightly as her trembling arms instinctively reached out. Her traitorous heart thudded—relieved, thrilled. The mate bond screamed in recognition, her chest glowing faintly.
The rejection hadn't worked.
It never would.
She shook her head hard. No. She'd rather die than be saved by him. This murderer could never be her savior. Never her mate.
Graham looked just as enraged to see Ezaar, his fists curling at his sides. He and his daughter shared one rare trait—they loathed this bastard with every fiber of their being. Every day, Graham wished to see him dead… preferably shot, then tossed off the same cliff Samuel had fallen from.
All heads turned from the executioner—now being dragged away, shrieking—to the monster at the entrance.
Ezaar Veyrin.
He strode forward. The crowd parted like water. He didn't need an army. Ezaar was an army.
