Chapter 101: Snap of the Crown
When we stopped, we were barely inches apart.
He looked down at me with a strange expression: soft, confused, haunted.
And then, he whispered my name.
"Vivian."
Just that. Just one word.
It was maddening how beautiful he could make my name sound, like it was the only word he cared to speak. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
I kept my face unreadable, though inside, every memory, every wound, threatened to rise. My voice, when I finally spoke, was steady but cold.
"Why?"
He flinched slightly, brows drawing in.
"I had to," he said quietly.
His hand started to lift, reaching for my cheek, but I blocked it before he could touch me. The near-contact sent a jolt through me, our bond reacting even when I didn’t want it to.
His eyes darkened with pain, and his arm slowly dropped. He didn’t argue. He just stood there, stiff and aching to reach for me again.
You don’t get that right anymore, I reminded myself.
"You’re the Lupus Deus," I said, my voice sharp and bitter. "You don’t have to do anything."
His jaw clenched. "You were in danger. I had to act fast to protect you, your family. You think I wanted to keep you away? I couldn’t let you be here until it was safe."
His voice deepened with that unshakable authority of his. But I wouldn’t let his words break through my resolve.
No. I needed him soft. Vulnerable. Just like I was when he left.
I pressed my palm against his chest, right where his heart beat beneath muscle and power. He tensed beneath my touch, then slowly relaxed.
I softened my expression, just a little. Enough to lower his guard.
He reached out again, and this time, I let him. His fingers grazed my cheek, warm and tentative, like he didn’t want to spook me. For that one second, I allowed myself to feel it: the closeness, the ache.
"I’ve missed you," he whispered, breath stirring the air between us. "My little cloud."
The nickname made something twist painfully in my chest.
I slid my hand up his chest, then the other, gently cupping his face. I pulled him closer, close enough for our lips to hover apart by only a breath. Rising up on my toes, I held his gaze.
And in a voice just as low, just as intimate, I answered.
"And I’ve missed you too," I murmured against his lips before pressing them softly to his. He moved with me, our kiss starting gentle, but heat quickly stirred beneath the surface. I matched his pace, letting myself melt into him, just for a moment. But before we lost ourselves completely, I pulled back with a sharp breath, brushing my thumbs across his jaw.
His eyes fluttered shut under my touch, leaning into me as if I were a safe place.
But I wasn’t feeling merciful.
"I’m tired of your crap," I whispered.
And just as his eyes began to open, I snapped his neck.
The sound was sickening. His body crumpled instantly, dropping to the ground with a heavy thud. His skull hit the stone floor with a crack that made me flinch. I stood over him, heart steady despite what I’d done.
Well, there was no turning back now. The questions could wait. This part needed to be done.
Gasps broke around me like glass. I looked up, a sly smile teasing the corner of my lips.
"Oh shit!" Algebra yelped from a few feet away, his eyes bulging at the sight of Zaliver’s limp form. I turned my gaze toward him, letting the smirk fade into something colder.
Behind him, the black Dodge Challenger stood like a silent witness. Inside, Luke and Johnson sat frozen, pale and wide-eyed.
"You two," I said calmly, "put him in the car."
They didn’t move right away. When they finally did, it was slow, reluctant.
"B-but you killed him!" Johnson stammered, horror twisting his expression.
I rolled my eyes. "He’s not dead. He’s immortal, remember? If I had really killed him, the mate bond would have snapped, your wolves would have gone nuts. Do you feel that? No? Exactly."
With the toe of my boot, I nudged Zaliver’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back. His shirt lifted slightly, revealing a sliver of skin that made something stir deep in my gut. I shoved the feeling down fast. This wasn’t the time.
Everyone could see the way his chest still rose and fell. He looked... peaceful. Like he was napping through the worst betrayal of his life.
And when he woke up? Oh, he was going to be livid.
I had to act fast, no telling how quickly he could recover from a broken neck.
Luke and Johnson crept toward him with extreme caution, clearly hoping he wouldn’t suddenly spring back to life. It didn’t take long to realize they couldn’t lift him on their own.
Two other bulky men stepped forward to help, but even with four of them, it wasn’t easy. I itched to push them away, to pull Zaliver against me, to make sure they weren’t hurting him, but I didn’t dare touch him again. Something told me that if I did, he’d wake up. And that was not part of the plan.
Better safe than sorry.
I turned my attention back to Algebra, who was slowly inching backward like he thought I wouldn’t notice.
"Don’t even think about it," I warned, narrowing my eyes. "Come here."
The guilt on his face turned to defiance.
"Algebra. Now," I snapped, my voice pulsing with command.
His green, slit-pupil eyes glared at me as he stalked over like an angry cat forced into a bath.
"It’s Albericus. Say it with me: Al. Be. Ri. Cus. Albericus," he enunciated with a scowl as he stopped in front of me.
"Right, right. Albert-help-us or whatever," I said, waving him off. "I’ve got something to ask you."
He gave me a skeptical look, then glanced over my shoulder. His eyes rolled dramatically as he sighed.
"For the love of everything sacred... just give him to me."
Without waiting, he strode over to the struggling group and easily slid an arm under Zaliver’s waist. He hoisted him up like it was nothing, draping one of Zaliver’s arms over his own shoulder to steady him.
Even knocked out, Zaliver still demanded attention, still took up all the space around him.
And yet, this part of the plan was mine.