Tourment (noun) torment; anguish

We had fought for this peace.

Bled for this peace.

And now, it was all slipping away again.

The children. They were the weight I couldn't bear to leave behind. Yet I knew I had no choice. Not if I was to keep Claire safe. Not if we were to make it out of here alive.

I glanced at her, standing so close by my side, holding that child's hand like she could never let go. I could feel the tension in her every breath—her anger, her worry. She didn't want me to make this decision. I knew that. But she was strong enough to know I had to.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. "Claire," I said softly, almost apologetic. "We can't take them with us. Not now. It's too dangerous. And besides, I've fought so hard to negotiate peace, and now everything's in jeopardy again. I can't leave without finding out what Shayla is up to."

I saw the way her jaw clenched, the way her hand tightened around the little girl's small, trembling fingers.

"I get it. But they're just children, Bastien," she finally whispered, her voice shaking. "We can't leave them. Not like this. We can't—"

"I know," I cut in gently. "I know, Claire." But my hands were shaking, betraying me, betraying the certainty I wished I could feel. "I want to take them with us. I swear, I do. But this threat doesn't go away if we turn back now." My eyes flicked to the soldiers, the grim faces of those who understood what was at stake. "I can't afford to be weak."

If I had any other choice than following Chastity, I would take it. But right now, this was our choice. I couldn't let my chance to bring peace to the Lawless Lands slip away because I was too afraid to try.

I could see the hurt in her eyes, but she didn't look away. She understood that I had to make the hard choices. That didn't make it easier, though.

"We're not weak," she said quietly. "Choosing to protect the innocent is not weakness. It's who you are. At your core."

The words sank into me like a stone, but she was right. Diana, I knew she was. I wanted to be that man. The one who would never leave behind those who needed us. But...

"The longer we stay, the more vulnerable we are. We're already stretched thin. I need you focused, Claire. I need you by my side. We can't do this if we're distracted."

She held my gaze for a long moment. I saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes, but there was something else there, too—a sadness that tightened her features.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Fine. But they have to be safe. And they can't stay here."

"I promise," I whispered, my voice thick with something more than just regret.

I called a few of my guards forward. "Take them back to Chateau Rose. Now."

"But I want to go home," one little girl cried.

For a stolen second, I closed my eyes and imagined my home. Not Chateau Rose. But my real home. I had seen centuries pass, but I'd never forget my mother's face or my sister's smile. The way moonlight had flooded into our kitchen when Mama whispered kitchen spells.

I'd always been a warrior, but Amara had been more than just a home. It was where my family had lived, where our coven had gathered. It was what made the fighting mean something.

And it had been the place I'd been forced to leave to become what I was now. A bloodsucking monster. A shield for not one coven—but for all the families of the Conquered Territories.

I'd sworn to protect the innocents. To keep the balance of power. And what were all my sacrifices worth if I couldn't keep these children safe?

"Chateau Rose is a safe place," I told her. "Right now, your home isn't. But I promise, on my word as a prince, that when it's safe to go back home, we'll bring you back."

Claire's eyes softened as the children were gently pulled away, her fingers brushing against theirs as they went. I wanted to turn and walk away, but I stayed still, watching until they vanished from sight. Her gaze lingered on them, her chest rising and falling with every breath. And I ached to go to her, to hold her, but I knew she'd push me away.

I needed her strong. I needed her to stand beside me when things got worse. But I felt like I was breaking her every time I made these decisions.

The journey forward was slow, the weight of our actions pressing heavier with every step.

When we finally arrived at the entrance to Chastity's stronghold, I felt the tension crackling in the air like static before a storm. The place felt wrong. Too quiet. Too expectant.

I turned to Claire, trying to offer comfort where none existed.

She glared at me but accepted my hand. Again, I was reminded I wasn't very good at making her happy. But I needed to be good at keeping her safe.

Chastity waved her wand, and the stone in front of us parted like flesh giving way to a blade. The passageway revealed a narrow set of stairs descending into a dark, oppressive underground labyrinth. The air was thick with the scent of demonic magick, its flavor acrid and bittersweet, leaving a metallic tang on my tongue.

I knew what demon lay ahead by taste alone.

I had encountered demons before, plenty of them. But this one—Gorrath—was different. I'd crossed paths with him once before, long ago, and there were whispers among the demonkind about his particular brand of power. His touch, his magic, it wasn't just about destruction or chaos—it was more insidious.

He was the demon of sex and disease. A creature whose influence was as subtle as it was corrupting.

The question was, why had Chastity aligned herself with him?

We reached the stronghold, and I could feel the ancient weight of the place pressing in from all sides. The walls were steeped in history, the stones etched with protection runes. There was something darker here, something that clung to the air like dampness.

Magick was in the walls, the floor, and every breath I took. It was the kind of place that reminded you that the past—every sin, every misstep—was never truly gone.

Inside, the scent of herbs and incense smothered everything, mixing with the bitter tang of something deeper—something older. A flicker of candlelight revealed the sigils carved into the surfaces, all protection spells, and defensive wards, but it didn't ease the tension coiling in my gut.

Claire's hand was wrapped around mine, and I could feel her unease in every tight movement of her fingers. Her eyes darted around the darkened room, wary of everything, everyone. I understood. If anyone had reason to be on edge, it was her.

We stepped further in, the flickering light from the torches casting strange shadows across the walls, turning everything into half-formed shapes. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, not just by the familiars lurking in the corners but by the very walls themselves.

The stairs finally deposited us into her dark, underground stronghold. The walls were stone, but there were chairs for receiving guests. However, no one in my host sat.

I kept an eye out for the demon, who I knew was here but hadn't made an appearance.

Chastity took my silence as an invitation. Her voice slid through the gloom like honey laced with poison.

"Bastien, my dear prince," she purred, turning to face me. Her eyes gleamed with something wicked. "It's so good to host you here again. You know, the last time you spent a night in my stronghold, it was in my bed."

I tensed, my fingers tightening around Claire's. Of course she couldn't leave well enough alone.

"That was years ago," I muttered, barely containing the disgust that churned inside me.

She laughed, a sound like glass shattering, too sharp, too bitter. "You're always so serious, my prince." Her eyes flicked over to Claire, lingering far too long for comfort. "I know the rules. You can't fuck your sanguine partner. I so enjoyed being a plaything for you." Her fingers walked up my shoulder. "Who knows, it might loosen my tongue."

"Or maybe I'll cut it out," Claire said.

Chastity giggled. "What a mouthy little thing," she said. "And so serious. Just like you. I like it."

"Well, I don't like you. And for your information, I'm his mate," Claire said, her voice clear, cutting through the tension. There was steel in it, and I felt the power of her quiet strength. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll respect it."

Tyson barked out a laugh that echoed against the damp stone.

"So much for subtly," Natalia huffed.

"Is this true, Bastien? Have you found your mate?" Chastity asked.

I looked at Claire, trying to convey every ounce of love for her.

"It's true," I admitted. "Claire is much more than my sanguine partner. She is my wife."

Chastity arched a brow, clearly amused. "My, my. How things change."

"If you're looking for a new plaything," Tyson said, stepping forward. "I'm very unmated. And very available to replace my uncle in your bed tonight."

She giggled again. "What a trade. A prince for a prince."

Usually, I would find this little exchange irksome and chid Tyson for his stupidity, but as it was, I couldn't muster up any feelings for him outside of gratitude.

I stole a glance at Claire, sensing a subtle shift in her. Her breath quickened. Her eyes darted around the room, her gaze skimming over every shadow, every corner like she was searching for something—or someone.

"What is it?" I asked softly, keeping my voice low. I couldn't ignore it. I could feel the tension radiating from her, the sharpness of her focus. There was something wrong.

Her face paled, and her fingers clenched tighter around mine. "My white wolf... she's not here," she whispered, her voice trembling. The words were so soft, but they struck me like a hammer to the chest.

My bloodstone pounded with the beat of her raging heart.

For a moment, everything went still.

I could feel the weight of her words sink deep into me, and my gut twisted. My first instinct was to protect her, to shield her from the truth. But the truth was already here. It was written all over her face, in the way her eyes scanned the room, searching for something she couldn't find.

Damn it.

How had I let this happen?

DRAMA. DRAMA. DRAMA. Y'all!!!!! This is the chapter before the STORM!