Roman rocked her, his hands over her own as the screams from inside intensified. He understood her plan now. She let them in, let them decimate everyone so when they went in, very few would remain alive. It had been a good plan. She'd make a good tactician if she could get past feeling the weight of her decisions. He regretted the deaths of those who didn't deserve it, but he also knew this was one of the few plans that would work to weaken the guard enough to get Roman close to his uncle.

He sat there for what felt like hours, but was really only minutes, his hands shielding her from the sounds of death streaming out of the walls like one of those old radios from before the invasion. From where he sat, he had a front row seat of the carnage. They'd overrun the place in a matter of minutes. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, blood coating the ground so it looked like a river of crimson running from the fountain in the courtyard. She said the ravagers were like children, only wanting to play. To him, they looked like vicious, deadly monsters skilled in one thing—the art of killing.

Greggor poked him in the arm and motioned toward the castle. As much as he hated for Katyia to look, he had to. She stood between them and the horde of ravagers crunching on their victims. He kissed the top of her head, now a complete shade of white. She roused, letting her hands fall into her lap. They remained human, not the elongated claws of last night. She'd learned to control her shift. Amazed, Roman helped her to her feet. She'd learned control over her thirst faster than any new turn he'd ever encountered. He shouldn't be surprised at her control over the ravager that lived within her.

Her eyes swept the massacre, a single tear escaping. Katyia brushed it away and straightened her back before walking through the gates that led inside. ravagers called out to her. She answered a few of them, but kept going. No one had survived the front gates and the courtyard. Roman drew his sword as they approached the front entrance of the castle. He heard the twang of Greggor's blade as he drew it.

The inside was dark, the lanterns having been knocked over by the ravagers in the attack. Enough light poured through the windows and front hall to see by. The beautiful mahogany wood still adorned the hallways, and intricate carvings begged for attention from wandering hands. He'd spent hours as a child tracing them. He shook off his reflections and focused on his surroundings. Memories could wait. Ravagers lurked in the shadows, their garbled cries happy. Odd, but that was the feeling he got from them. Several tried to scuttle near them, but one look from Katyia sent them darting away.

Two men sprang up out of the shadows and Greggor swung his sword, slicing through one of them, twirling, his blade sliding free as he ducked and stabbed the blade upward, driving it at an angle through the man's chest. Had Roman blinked, he'd have missed it. That was the reason they trained everyone so hard. Reflexes like that saved lives.

He made his way through two more hallways and up the stairs. They'd glanced in the Great Hall, where the king usually spent his day. Empty except for the bodies littering the floor. They checked each room before heading to the next. It took only a few minutes for Roman to find the royal apartments. They were on the top floor of the castle where he and his family had lived. His uncle had to be in the main family room, but he checked each suite before stopping in front of the door leading into the rooms his parents had shared. He reached for the doorknob, but Katyia grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

He and Greggor moved out of her way to stand on either side of the door. She reached into the pocket of her heavy coat and took out a black satin pouch. This one was different from the one she'd used the night before. Inside was a pasty substance, lime green with an odor vile enough to make his stomach roll. A grin stretched across her face when she spread the foul mixture across his and Greggor's brows. It reeked. Her red eyes danced with devilment. She moved back, the same green paste on her own face, and put the little pouch away.

She stepped in front of the door and held her palm out. Heat flashed around them as the door burst inward. Arrows bounced off the invisible shield around her. He and Greggor exchanged a surprised look before hurrying to follow her into the room.

Alexi Stratcovich stood in the middle of the room, three soldiers in front of him. Tall, blond, and heavily muscled, his uncle hadn't aged a day since Roman had seen him last. He was also the spitting image of Roman's father, perhaps a little older. He'd always been Roman's favorite uncle. Never would he have imagined the dark plans that hid behind his jovial mask of family.

"Hello, Uncle."

Alexi's blue eyes narrowed. "Roman. Why have you come here? You have to know only death awaits you in these walls."

"I thought we could have a family reunion."

Alexi snorted, his smile calculated. "Of course, nephew. It is only fitting that you should die by my hand the same as your father."

Roman's eyes narrowed. He remembered without his uncle reminding him. He'd watched Alexi behead his father in front of his mother and older brother. It was not a moment he'd ever forget.

He nodded to the guards. "Mind asking them to move out of the way so we can have a proper greeting?"

"I don't think so." Alexi shifted from foot to foot, his eyes darting to the door leading to the bedroom. Roman saw Katyia eyeballing the room.

"Katyia?" he asked, the question plain.

"Magic," she hissed. The feral tone rolled through him. His uncle and the three men standing guard recoiled when they got a good look at his mate. She'd gone completely white, even her clothes. The yellow orbs that replaced her green eyes expressed nothing but malignant thoughts. She crouched, her body shifting, moving into the stance of a ravager.

"What is that abomination?" his uncle whispered hoarsely.

"That, Uncle, is my mate." Horror crossed the man's face. He stared at Katyia, his eyes showing the first signs of fear. "Keep her away from there."

"Why?" Roman asked. "What's in there you don't want us to find?"

"Magic." The word rattled through the room. She stood, her movement fluid, graceful, and placed her hands on the door. It vibrated, shook like gale force winds were battering it down. When she finally pulled her hands off the door, it opened easily. Inside, a little girl sat huddled, hugging a doll to her chest. She screamed when she saw the monster standing in front of her. Katyia looked at Roman over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Who is she?" he asked his uncle, his tone flat, cold.

"My granddaughter. She is your last living relative besides myself."

He stared at the man who had taken everything from him, the man who had murdered all but his sister. Alexi deserved no mercy, but today mercy would be granted in a small measure. "Bring the girl here, Katyia."

The guards bristled, going for their swords. Greggor and Roman were ready for them, and it took just a few stokes of their swords to deal with them. His uncle brandished his weapon at them, but went stock still when Katyia came out with the little girl in her arms, screaming and flailing. "Don't hurt her. She's all I have left."

"I'm not you, Uncle. I don't harm innocent children." He spat the words out. "Take her outside."

The little girl started crying. Her screams echoed in his ears, but he kept his eyes trained on the man in front of him.

"Go ahead, Nephew, kill me."

"Why, Uncle? Just tell me why you had to kill them all."

"I should have been our rightful ruler," Alexi spit out. "Our people chose your father over me. I was the oldest, the rightful heir. Did they just expect me to be happy? To live with the fact my brother had stolen what was mine? No. It is my throne to rule from. I simply took back what was mine."

"But why kill them all?" he asked. "You had taken the title. You didn't need to kill everyone."

"But I did." The man stood up straighter, righteous anger distorting his face. "Our people would never accept me if I hadn't shown strength that day, if I hadn't shown them I would tolerate no disobedience. They all had to die to prove I meant what I said about loyalty. You are either with me or you die."

Alexi knew it was over. Roman had thought about this moment so many times. What he would say, how he'd laugh while he stood over his uncle as he died slowly. All the questions of why he'd do that to his family. Old anger shimmered, but he couldn't muster the same intense hatred. The man he'd hated for so long stood defiantly before him, and Roman's only thought was about the woman in the other room. The woman who'd taught him so much about forgiveness and loyalty in the short amount of time she'd been with him.

He did what he thought Katyia would want him to do.

"You're right, Uncle. You're either with me or you die."

Instead of all the things he'd mapped out over the years, he swung his sword, the aim deadly. His uncle's head rolled to a stop at his feet, blood splattering both Roman and Greggor when the body hit the floor. He wiped the blade off across Alexi's chest and then sheathed the sword. He thought he'd feel relief, even joy at taking the head of the man who'd destroyed his family, but he didn't. He felt nothing but a cold emptiness. Killing his uncle wouldn't bring back those he lost. Nothing ever would, but they would remain with him always. In his heart.

"Let's go."

Greggor never said a word, simply followed him out. They found Katyia at the end of the hallway, her hair starting to darken back to its normal inky shade. She was murmuring quietly to the little girl. When she spotted them, she smiled. "This is Roman and his brother Greggor, and this little beauty is Luna."

"I want my grandpa." Tears welled up in her clear blue eyes. Alexi's eyes.

He picked her up, her legs swinging when he held her up high so they were face to face. "Your grandfather had to go away, Luna. You are going to come live with us now."

Her lips quivered and Katyia tsked. "Roman, don't hold her like that. You'll hurt her." She took the girl from him and cradled her to her chest. The child couldn't be more than two or three. Hopefully, she'd soon forget all this. That was the only good thing about children this small. It saved Delia. She forgot the horror after a few months. She remembered some things, but not the vivid details Roman did.

His gaze swung around the hall, seeing himself as a boy, his mother calling from the doorway for him to fetch his sister. His father smiling indulgently at his wife. His home.

The debt of justice he owed them paid, a burden lifted from him. His past was his past. He only had one piece of business left to attend.

Olivia.