Rhysand.
The sound of my brother’s footsteps echoes in my head as he runs from the room.
And I’m right behind him like a shadow of f*****g vengeance. His heels catch on the plush rug as he staggers down the hall toward the stairs.
He’s gasping, clutching his face, blood blooming between his fingers and staining his shirt and I’ve never felt so f*****g satisfied.
Years of his bullshit needs to be dealt with.
“Don’t run,” I growl, the adrenaline singing in my veins, a hot, electric current that makes my vision sharpen until I can see every pore on his pathetic, sweating face. “Stay and fight, you f*****g coward.”
Colt reaches downstairs and finally finds his footing, his eyes wild and shimmering with a mixture of terror and toxic resentment.
He lunges at me, a clumsy, desperate swing
