Daggermouth

“He’ll kill everyone if you don’t,” Shadera interjected, sliding off the table and gesturing her head toward Callum. She approached the chair, crouching to meet Marcus’s gaze. “Including your family.”

Callum wouldn’t, actually. He had a strict moral code even if flawed. No children, no women. But if it helped to get information, he’d let Shadera use the threat.

“We know about the bombs. Give us details,” Shadera replied, putting pressure on his shattered knee.

Marcus hissed in pain as Callum’s eyes shot to her. She already knew about the bombs. He’d only learned about them yesterday in his interrogation with Davish. What else does she know?

“The . . . bombs . . .” Marcus’s breath came in shallow pants. “They aren’t normal. They’re designed specifically for the rings.”

Callum felt his stomach twist. “What kind are they?”

“Incendiary. Gas. Things that will destroy human life but leave buildings standing.” His words tumbled out now, pain and fear loosening his tongue. “The President says the rings have become too populated, too unmanageable. He’s been testing them on the Cardinal workers, t-that’s why they haven’t gone home. They’re dead. They’re all dead. He’s calling it The Culling.”

The Culling.

Callum’s hand tightened around the hammer’s handle until his knuckles ached.

“When?” Greyson demanded, stepping forward. “When is this Culling scheduled to begin?”

“I-I don’t know. I just know it’s happening. T-that they have perfected the gas.”

“And the deployment plan?” Callum pressed. “Which sectors are targeted first?”

The officer hesitated, his gaze darting between the three of them. “All of it. The gas was created with mapping molecules. It’s designed to stop at the Heart’s border.”

Callum’s eyes met Greyson’s, fear passing between them. This was worse than anything he had expected, anything he could have imagined. This was hundreds of thousands of people. Men, women, and children.

“Why?” Shadera asked, her voice strained. “Why would he do this?”

Marcus’s jaw clenched. “He is making room for something.”

Greyson went perfectly still, a dangerous energy radiating from him.

Callum opened his mouth to press for more details, hammer raised and ready to strike when a voice came from the doorway.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, horror evident in every syllable. She stood frozen, taking in the blood spattered floor, the bound and broken officer, the hammer in Callum’s hand.

The three of them stared at her, caught in a tableau of violence. Callum lowered the hammer slowly, shame burning through him at being discovered like this. Not the torture itself—he’d long ago reconciled himself to the necessity of such actions—but that Lira, of all people, should see this side of him. The side he’d worked so hard to keep away from her.

“Lira.” Greyson recovered first, stepping forward. “How’d you get in here?”

She held up a cluster of keys, her hand trembling slightly. “I used my key. No one answered when I called or knocked, but I knew you were home.” Her eyes moved from Greyson to Shadera, then finally settled on Callum, lingering on the blood that covered his clothes, his hands, his face. “What is this?”

Callum couldn’t bear the way she looked at him, as if seeing a stranger wearing the face of someone she trusted. He set the hammer down on the table, wishing he could wipe away the evidence of what he’d been doing, what he was capable of.

“We needed information,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “Information that could save thousands of lives.”

Lira’s eyes moved to Marcus, whose consciousness seemed to be fading, his head lolling forward as blood continued to pool beneath his shattered knees.

“By torturing a Veyra officer in my brother’s apartment?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.

“Li,” Greyson began, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture.

“Don’t ‘Li’ me,” she snapped. “How long has this been going on? How long have you been . . .” She gestured at the scene before her, apparently unable to find words adequate to describe what she was seeing.

Callum felt something crack inside him. The careful wall he’d built between his life as Callum Thane, charming owner of Heart entertainment venues, and his other life—the one filled with blood and information and desperate measures—was crumbling before his eyes. And with it, any hope that Lira could see him as anything but the monster he truly was.

The weight of her gaze burned through him as he wiped his hands on a cloth, the blood smearing rather than cleaning, a fitting metaphor for the moment. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the wet, labored breathing of the Veyra officer strapped to the chair.

“We should move to the living room,” Callum suggested, his voice u

“What about him?” Shadera asked, gesturing toward the bloodied officer with a tilt of her head.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Greyson replied, his tone flat.

Lira flinched at the words, her shoulders drawing tight beneath her elegant dress. She stepped back from the doorway, allowing them to file past her. Callum moved last, pausing beside her with words of explanation or comfort ready on his tongue. But when he met her eyes through the openings in her mask, the words died. There was no explanation he could offer that would erase what she’d seen, no comfort that wouldn’t sound like a lie.

The living room still bore the marks of violence. Though the bodies were now gone, the furniture placed upright and glass swept up, his cleaning crew still worked methodically, removing bloodstains from every surface. One worker was carefully replacing a shattered mirror, while another scrubbed at dark patches on the kitchen floor. They studiously avoided looking at the four of them as they entered the room, their training ensuring that nothing they witnessed would ever be repeated outside these walls.

Callum sank into an armchair, suddenly aware of the dried blood flaking from his clothes, his hands, beneath his fingernails. Lira chose the farthest seat from him, perching on the edge of a sofa as if ready to flee at any moment. Greyson remained standing, his posture stiff, while Shadera claimed a spot on the arm of a chair next to Greyson, her body language suggesting casual indifference despite the tension filling the room.

“There were Veyra officers in the apartment last night,” Greyson began without preamble, his voice controlled. “We dealt with them. The one we are interrogating, Callum found surveilling us on his way here to help clean up the mess.”

Callum watched as Lira’s posture shifted in understanding.

“And the torture?” Lira asked, turning back to her brother. “Was that your idea?”

“Mine,” Callum spoke before Greyson could answer. “We needed information. About your father’s plans.”

Greyson’s head turned toward Callum, the motion sharp and sudden. “Speaking of plans,” he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge, “when were you going to tell me you’ve been helping the rebellion?”

The question hung in the air between them, years of friendship suddenly caught in their secrets. Callum didn’t immediately answer, weighing his response carefully. The truth was, he’d never pla

“That’s fucking rich coming from you,” Shadera cut in, a harsh laugh escaping her.

Lira turned toward her. “What does that mean?”

Shadera glanced at Greyson, and he stilled. The silence that followed felt weighted, a physical presence pressing against Callum’s chest. He looked between them, sensing some unspoken knowledge passed in that shared glance.

“Don’t,” Greyson said finally, his voice low.

Shadera’s laugh this time was bitter, cutting. “How can anyone ever trust you when you don’t even trust each other?” She stood, pacing the length of the living room with restless energy. “All of you—elite of the Heart, Veyra, children of privilege—keeping secrets from each other like it’s your fucking job.”

“Shadera,” Greyson warned, but she ignored him.

“Your brother,” she continued, turning to face Lira and pointing toward Greyson, “has been smuggling goods into the rings. Medicine. Food. Supplies. All under your nose—your father’s nose.”

Callum felt as the floor dropped out beneath him. His eyes snapped to Greyson, searching for confirmation or denial. His face revealed nothing, but his silence was answer enough.

“Is that true?” Callum asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice.

Greyson nodded once, a short, sharp motion. “Yes.”

Something warm and unexpected flared in Callum’s chest—pride, he realized. Pride in his friend who had found the courage to act, to resist. All this time, while Callum had been ru

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Callum asked, leaning forward. “I could’ve helped. We could’ve coordinated our efforts.”

“The same reason you didn’t tell me about your activities,” Greyson replied. “The fewer people who knew, the safer the operation.”

Lira stood suddenly, her movements jerky as she took off her mask to reveal the emotion flooding her face. “Both of you,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “Both of you have been risking your lives, committing treason, and neither of you thought to trust me with the truth?” She turned to Greyson. “I’m your sister. I would have helped you. Protected you.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Greyson replied, a hint of gentleness entering his voice. “The Veyra watch you closely because of your position, your access to media and public perception. If you’d been caught helping me—”

“But you didn’t even trust me with the truth.” Lira’s voice sharpened. “Even if you didn’t let me help, you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

“It wasn’t about trust,” Greyson insisted, falling onto the couch next to where Shadera had sat again. “It was about safety. The fewer people involved, the fewer deaths when our father eventually discovers what I’ve been doing.”

Callum watched the siblings, feeling a familiar ache in his chest. How many times had he wanted to tell Lira the truth about his own activities? But he’d kept silent for the same reason Greyson had—to protect her, to keep her untainted by the violence and betrayal that had become his life.

“We should get back to our guest,” Callum said, attempting to diffuse the tension. “Officer Webb might have more information we can use.”

Lira went completely still, her body freezing mid-motion. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice suddenly hollow.