DANTE
“All done. Good as new,” Celina, my half-sister, grinned.
She pointed to the stitches she’d made on my leg and her attempt to heal me.
It was no secret that my father had slept with a whore shameless enough to keep the pregnancy, which resulted in her.
I hated that her birth had driven a wedge through our family, especially between my parents, but I didn’t blame Celina for it.
They were two consenting adults.
If they’d been sensible enough to think about the people who’d get hurt by their recklessness, they might have spared us all the pain.
She snorted, staring at her palms.
“I think I’m getting better. My witchcraft gene isn’t dormant after all.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, then flicked her forehead.
She gasped and scowled at me.
“What was that for?!”
“For using magic when I didn’t authorize you to,” I muttered.
“When?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“On Oleander,” I said flatly.
“I told you to stitch her up. I never said you could practice your witchcraft on her. And why the hell were you running your mouth to her?”
Letting Celina handle it had been a mistake.
I thought seeing someone her age might make Oleander more comfortable—not that I gave a damn about her comfort.
Mostly, I just didn’t want her entertaining thoughts of escape.
Celina could be a brat and a thorn in the side, but she was good at sniffing out schemes and shutting them down.
What I didn’t expect was for her to get cozy with the prisoner.
“I only told her your name. Everyone knows who you are,” she mumbled.
“And next you’d tell her we’re a pack of supernatural beings,” I snapped, leveling a glare at her.
“When the council gets here, I’ll let them drag your ass away.”
Celina’s eyes widened.
“You wouldn’t!”
“Try me,” I growled.
Hex snickered.
“As if you’d actually let that happen.”
The fear on her face vanished.
“Of course he wouldn’t,” she said smugly.
“You won’t let your only surviving family get hauled off and punished over a little mistake.”
“A little mistake?” I echoed, scowling.
She wasn’t even sorry—typical Celina.
“And I have Hex,” she beamed, clutching his arm and leaning into him.
“He’ll always defend me.”
Hex gave me a look and shrugged, trying to shake her off, but she clung tighter.
“You can leave,” I told her.
“What?” she blinked.
She pouted but stayed glued to Hex.
I fought the urge to get up and drag her away, but I knew moving now would just tear my wound open again.
“You should listen to him,” Hex said, dryly.
“Unless you want my heart separated from my body, and head on a stake.”
“You’re no fun,” she grumbled, but finally let go.
Before leaving, she blew him a kiss and said, “Don’t forget to give me your answers about our discussion earlier.”
“Answer to what discussion?” I growled.
Hex raised both hands.
“Nothing’s going on between us.”
“Good. Because if you touch her, I won’t hesitate to rip your heart out.”
Hex scoffed.
“Relax. She’s not my type.”
I rolled my eyes and stretched my leg, careful not to aggravate the wound.
“So, about Oleander—”
“Nothing is going on between us, Dante,” Hex cut in sharply.
I studied him.
“Really? You’ve nearly gone for my throat twice because of her. I could swear you look at her like she’s something… precious.”
As much as I trusted him, I needed to be sure.
The last thing I wanted was to end up at odds with my Beta and my only true friend over her.
He snickered.
“That’s a figment of your imagination.”
“Besides,” he shifted in his seat, eyes still fixed on his phone, “I was just being practical. If you want to keep her around before killing her, she should at least be in good health. She’s not like us.”
“Of course,” I replied grimly.
“Still doesn’t mean I appreciate you going against me in front of everyone.”
Hex raised a brow.
“It was just Cam. Who else?”
I grumbled under my breath.
He had a point.
It had only been Doctor Cameron.
But I still would’ve preferred if he kept his damn concern to himself.
I changed the subject.
“Why the hell can’t we be immune to silver? Fuck.”
“How did you get hurt?” Hex asked.
“How?” I snorted.
Was he being serious?
I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out the dagger.
The same one Oleander had used to stab me.
He caught it by the plastic hilt, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the dried blood coating the blade.
“That’s mine,” he confirmed.
“Amazing how it was tested on me first.” I pointed to the stitches in my stomach and leg.
“Why the hell did you give her a silver blade knowing exactly what it does to us? And why do you even have one?”
“It was a gift,” he said casually.
“Of all things—silver?”
Hex gave a half-shrug and placed the dagger on the coffee table beside him.
“It came in handy against the rogues. I told you it was a bad idea to bring her along. I caught a maid handing her Oleander-spiked water. Then we were nearly chased to death—”
“Wait. What?” I cut him off, my blood running cold.
“She was given Oleander?”
To werewolves, Oleander was as lethal as wolfsbane, just less obvious.
It triggered hallucinations, nausea, stomach pain, arrhythmias, and sometimes even cardiac arrest.
It was subtle, effective, and often used when someone wanted to eliminate a perceived threat without drawing too much attention.
And to humans?
Still deadly.
But why Oleander?
She hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Yes,” Hex affirmed with a short nod.
I frowned.
She looked perfectly fine to me, far from someone who’d been poisoned.
“At least something good came out of all that,” I said.
“And that is?” Hex asked.
“Alpha Caleb is dead,” I murmured, a half-grin forming.
“One enemy down, many more to go. That’s worth cheering for.”
Ironic, really.
That bastard had planned to kill me at the summit, unaware that enemies were already closing in on him.
I stood, turning to Hex.
“Join us for brunch. Oleander will be there. She could use a proper meal.”
Hex gave a mock gasp.
“Unbelievable. Dante Corsetti showing concern for a mere human?”
“Even Hades, god of the underworld, knew when to show mercy,” I said, striding to the door.
I paused.
“What good is she to me if she’s dead?”
I glanced over my shoulder.
Hex said nothing.
“I thought so too,” I murmured, then stepped out of the room.