Lirael's strike team crouched in the shadows of Connor's Manor like panthers stalking their prey, waiting for the Connor Family's scattered villains to return.
As hours ticked by, the fleeing rats came scurrying back one after another.
Each homecoming ended the same way—they met their end at the hands of the Veyra Family's deadliest enforcers.
These were men whose hands dripped with blood, and Lirael's determination burned colder than winter steel. No amount of begging or threats could sway her as she cut them down without mercy.
Though their dying breaths hissed with venom, their deepest hatred wasn't for Lirael.
Every ounce of fury was reserved for Tyler's son—that backstabbing weasel who'd suckered them into returning.
If looks could kill, that little traitor would've been shredde
