Seconds to Midnight: A Maiden of Midnight Prequel

Cain- Day Six

The next afternoon started with me being woken by Lillian knocking on my door, poking her head through and announcing in an annoyed tone, “Prince Cain, Joseph Smith to see y-” Before she could finish speaking, Joseph burst through the door, brushing Lillian aside, his journal in hand, and a fresh quill waiting.

“Prince Cain, I need to continue your interview from earlier.” He pulled a chair out from my desk, turning it to face me. Thankfully, the books taken from his homeworld were hidden in my cupboard, behind some old clothes of mine. At least the smell of a different world in my room could be attributed to Joseph busting through here like he owned the place now, and not immediately pinned back to me.

Sitting up in bed, I eyed the clock on my wall, growling, “It’s two in the afternoon.”

Waking a Demonic-being at two in the afternoon was like kicking down someone’s door in the middle of the night and demanding their presence! It would have to take something damned serious, either a death or a birth, for me to justify doing that to anyone!

By the depths of Hell, doing that to Destiny was asking for my favourite parts to be removed.

Alishan had gone to Dinial to have him request a discreet meeting with the Archangel Queen for us, although she had warned me that Seraphina wasn’t the type to be discreet or punctual. She would make us wait for the meeting just to prove she could.

“Yes, but I was hoping you would show me what was in the other room in these chambers. Your servant refused to open the door at my request.”

Despite knowing Joseph was complaining to me about Lillian following orders, I purred darkly, “Good. I gave her explicit orders not to show you into that room. You, or anyone else.”

“At least tell me what is on the other side. I am writing a book about your family’s history-”

“The door doesn’t concern my family’s history, so keep out of it!” I seethed, too annoyed at being woken early to keep my face, or tone, polite.

Finally noticing my anger, Joseph stood, sounding annoyed as he said, “I will return at dark.”

“You do that. Be thankful you knocked on my door this early, and not Lyna’s. She would have ripped your head from your body before you had time to announce your visit.”

Had Destiny been here, it would have been ‘Kill first, ask questions later’ for anyone in our chambers without permission. Plenty of Assassins had attempted to take her life, or my own, so we weren’t taking any chances. Had Lillian not been the first to enter, but Joseph, he would have died.

I watched him leave, and heard the way he cursed at Lillian when she tried to show him out, the chamber door slamming shut.

Seconds later, Lillian knocked on my door again, poking her head around and softly murmuring, “Apologies, Cain. I tried to send him away.”

“It’s alright. Joseph is a pest.”

“That he is,” Lillian agreed, closing the door as she left.

Too annoyed to return to sleep, I threw back my covers, taking a hot shower and brushing out my hair, pulling it back into a low bun on my head before dressing in plain fighting leathers.

I would be returning to the Caliem fields soon, and the camp stationed out there.

I needed to tie up the rest of this NightShade-The Borderlands business, and leave enough notes for Destiny that even if the Sins schemed to kill me out in the icy fields, she would be okay if they sent her out to The Borderlands.

Even if I knew my death would make her anything but ‘okay’. I flattered myself by thinking that it would crack whatever humanity was left in her.

Tonight, while waiting for Seraphina to contact me about a meeting, I would send Nym, Lydiav and Bal’gag out to the archives in the city, where most of the NightShade’s business records were kept, locked away. The information that Caliem liked or coveted was kept in our own archives; where I would be going after a quick meal, but there might have been something they missed.

I’d spent the rest of the night yesterday reading over the books, cover-to-cover, making as many notes as I could about the world; the names of its cities, their traditions, laws, histories- anything that would help Destiny in the future.

Investigating the NightShade case was punishable by death, so a papertrail would be needed as a backup for my cousin.

That papertrail was now tucked away in one of my desk shelves, underneath a pile of other menial paperwork.

Taking a seat on the end of my bed, I pulled out my phone, opening the last photo I’d taken of Des.

She was sitting across the table from me at the Angel Oriental, wearing a red dress. Despite her stern face, it was softer around me than it was with any of the others; a hint of the old Des slipping through her mask.

I missed her.

Closing the photo, I stood, pacing back and forth across my room until I fell backward onto my bed, listening to Lillian cleaning the chamber outside.

I just had to wait for Seraphina to contact Alishan and I before we went any further into this mission.

I shouldn’t have been saying ‘we’. This was my treason, not hers. If I was caught, it would be my neck facing the noose, or whatever other horrible punishment they decided for me.

Taron Carten had discovered The Borderlands a long time ago. The Manor had found his research interesting enough to seal it away and prevent anyone from talking about it, and now Joseph was here, interviewing everyone like he was trying to choose the best person for a job.

Lilith had reopened Project Lazarus during the NightShade mission, which meant she had believed there was a chance for her to get back into Eden.

They were also allowing Alishan to continue seeing Dinial, despite Archangels and Demonic-beings having been enemies since the beginning of time, when Seraphina had cursed my mother and thrown her out of Eden.

All of that had to be connected somehow. The Sins and my mother were obviously planning something, and Joseph was part of it.

Taron Carten had been part of it, until they had him killed by Des, which made me think that it linked back to The Borderlands.

Which meant my cousin could be in danger all over again. If the Manor was looking for a way back to Eden, then whatever they could be looking for might be in The Borderlands.

They would send my cousin to retrieve it, putting her in danger all over again.

Running a hand over my face, I exhaled slowly.

Destiny’s mind was better suited to this. I was a soldier, not a spy!

Yet, I had to do this for her. She wasn’t here to figure it out.

The mattress shifted along my side, dipping as someone took a seat, and Destiny’s scent washed over me.

“Cain.”

I opened one eye, choking when I saw Destiny seated next to me, her stern face cracking with a smile when I pulled her into a hug. She pat my arm, letting out an awkward laugh, “That happy to see me, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? I haven’t seen you in ages!” Her eyes widened in realisation.

I tightened my hug on her, and she swatted at my arm.

“Cain!” She followed my name with an amused laugh, shouting louder, “Cain!”

My eyes flew open, my arms wrapped around Alishan, not Destiny. She laughed again, gently teasing, “I was calling for you for ages!” Quickly releasing her, my cheeks turning red, I grumbled, “Hell below… What time is it?” I had thought she was Des.

Sitting up, I groggily rubbed at my eyes, taking in the darkened room. Candlelight spilled under my door from the chambers, where Lillian had lit candles, and the lights were also on.

My room had been left dark while I slept, although Lillian’d placed another oil diffuser in, further disguising the Guardians’ scents. I must have fallen asleep without realising, since I was sprawled atop the covers, which were rumpled beneath me. My legs had been sticking out over the bottom of the bed. Against the headboard, my pillow was cold, and my arm was numb from my head resting on it. Shaking the uncomfortable feeling off, I stood, smoothing my hair out and adjusting my pyjamas. Luckily it was Alishan who’d found me here, and not my mother, or one of the Sins. They would have punished me for being so lazy.

“Just after sunset. Seraphina has responded. She wants to speak with you, but not here. She requested you meet her in the forest between Pangorama and Caliem.”

“Seriously?” I groaned. Rifling through my closet, I kept the closet door between Alishan and I as I changed into a plain white shirt, a pair of dulled blue jeans, and brown leather jacket; a relic brought over from Earth. Combing through my hair with my fingers, I forced it back into a bun, held in place with a hairband, and shut the cupboard door, splaying my arms wide, “How do I look?”

“Dashing as always,” she grinned, “But there’s one other thing. Joseph is insisting on meeting with you before you leave. Seraphina wants the meeting in half an hour, but the Sins have agreed to let Joseph speak with you now.”

If I weren’t in the agreed meeting place in a half hour, we would lose our chance at answers. This seemed too convenient not to be some kind of scheme by the Manor and Joseph, but if they were aware of my treason, why not kill me for it?

“Where is the meddling son of a bitch?”

“Chambers,” Alishan jutted her thumb toward my closed bedroom door, “Nym, Lydiav and Bal’gag are keeping him entertained.” The ear-shattering sound of glass exploding against the floor punctuated her words, a piece of glass flying under the door, skittering to a stop at my feet, and Bal’gag let out a torrent of swearwords.

“Sounded expensive.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I angled angrily for the door, muttering, “It probably was.” Wrenching the door open, I spat, “What are you four doing?”

Bal’gag was midway through sweeping up the broken remnants of what appeared to be a flower vase, while Nym was pointing a knife toward Joseph, whose hand was bleeding. He had an ironclad grip on the broken neck of the vase, his blood streaming down it and soaking into the chaise lounge he was seated on.

Lydiav was bundling the flowers that had escaped the vase up, laying the dripping wet stems on the table, where Lillian was now hurrying back with a second vase.

“He tried to threaten her!” Nym spat, flicking the knife tip between Joseph and Lydiav.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared down at the Nephilim, who gave me a sheepish shrug. The movement was dulled by the cunning, uncaring gleam in his eyes when he replied, “I only asked her to open that door for me.” He pointed toward Destiny’s door. Standing in my own doorway, Alishan watched the entire encounter with slightly raised brows.

“She said no, and you pushed it. You told her to do it ‘or else’,” Bal’gag growled. Joseph’s eyes met mine. I scanned his face, looking for whatever his motive was. I didn’t have Destiny’s Demi-Sin ability, but alarm bells were ringing nonetheless. Something about the cold expression in his eyes, which sat on a face that was devoid of cold, unnerved me.

He was wearing a mask too.

Unlike Destiny’s masks, I had no idea if this one was the real him or not.

“I have told you before that the door is not important to your work here. Unless you lied about your reason for coming here?” I asked slyly, bending to pluck up the journal he had left on the table, obviously intending to use it for my ‘interview’. Joseph snapped it up, standing and hissing, “I can see that none of you will be any help!”

Bingo. I had struck gold with that reaction.

Stepping into his path, I smirked, “Hiding something, Nephilim?”

“I have told you that my only purpose here is to document Manor history!” He shouted, his hand rising to shove me aside, only to think better of it, instead merging the movement into a stiff bow that he quickly rose from, spitting, “I will find someone more useful to ask.”

Then, with a final, hateful glare over the room, his eyes settled on Alishan. Dropped to her stomach.

“Congratulations on your half-breed,” were his parting words.

All three of Destiny’s Guardians twisted to face Alishan, whose jaw dropped open in horror, mirroring the way her hand sunk to cover her abdomen.

I schooled my expression before locking eyes with her, calmly asking, “Is it true?”

If Alishan were pregnant with an Archangel’s child, it was a damned miracle the Manor hadn’t killed her yet.

Or perhaps that was the exact reason the Manor hadn’t killed her when they’d discovered her affair with Dinial.

By holding an Archangel’s partner and child under perpetual hostage, they would have control over the Archangel of Death.

Archangels were part of the council that decided the fate of everything. Having even one under Manor influence would be invaluable.

Which might have been why Seraphina had agreed to meet with us so quickly. If she knew of Alishan and Dinial, and the child they were going to have together, she might have mistaken my meeting as scheming by the Manor, and not me sniffing for information about something else entirely.

All of those theories depended on Alishan actually being pregnant, however… She nodded, and rather than show my shock, I said, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet, subdued, and she brushed her thumb over her abdomen. She couldn’t have been far along. No wonder she had refused the wine earlier in favour of a glass of water when I’d never seen Alishan turn down alcohol.

I was more surprised that a child hadn’t occurred sooner, considering Alishan and Dinial had been having a dalliance for close to a century now.

“Were you…” I cleared my throat awkwardly, “Were you willing?” My cousin’s answering glare was icy.

“I’m not even going to deign that with a response.”

Nodding slowly, I repeated with a sigh, “Then congratulations.”

“He tried to marry me, you know. The Manor turned his proposal to me down on my behalf. Agron has arranged for me to be married to a Demonic-being further down the ranks, but he will allow me to continue my dalliance with Dinial so long as it remains only that- an affair.”

“Seems more befitting an order from Zeella than Agron,” Nym frowned, while Lydiav curiously questioned, “Do you love Dinial?”

“He’s fun, and we confide in each other. That’s all I need,” Alishan said with a shrug that made me wonder if she needed so much more than that, before looking to me, “Go meet with the Queen of the Archangels.”

*

Seraphina did not come alone.

She brought with her a Guard of Angels, all dressed in golden armour and armed with spears. The golden glow of the Archangel Queen’s wings was bright enough that it radiated off the treetops, the thick foliage preventing it from shining straight up into the sky, and her eyes shone in the darkness, like someone had stuck a torch up her nose and switched it on.

Mud squelched between my boots as I took the final few steps into our meeting place, my hand resting lazily next to my sword. My father’s pistol was stuck in my jacket, not that it would be much help against even a standard Angel, much less an Archangel Queen.

I didn’t bother to mask the malice in my eyes when I bowed to her, just like she didn’t hide the smirk that rose to her perfect face when she beheld the way I swatted away a bug that buzzed too close to my ear. Seraphina had picked the perfect hellhole to meet with me in, telling me without words exactly what she thought of our meeting.

“Prince Cain,” she said my title like it held the same status and importance as dog shit, “You so boldly requested a meeting, but neglected to mention what this meeting was about.” Her words were both question and statement, the latter holding much more weight than the former.

I desperately wanted to blurt the word ‘Alcalie’, just to see how she would react to it, but I knew what her reaction would be- To smite me, and tell the Manor I had never met with her.

She would love to turn me into a smear of charcoal in the swamp at my feet.

I needed to be diplomatic. Luckily, I could do that, no matter how much I hated Seraphina.

This was the Archangel who had cursed my cousin and her twin, damning the both of them in the same breath when all Destiny had attempted to do was bring her sister back.

Joseph had made himself into a pain recently. It would be fun to see what would happen if I incriminated him to Seraphina.

“There’s a man in the Manor who isn’t any kind of Super-Natural we have seen before. He told me all kinds of stories.” I slid my eyes over the team of Angels standing to attention behind the Archangel Queen, who looked distinctly bored at my opening statement, having expected more disrespect from me.

The wind shifted, blowing their scents over to me. I sniffed deeply, but subtly.

I didn’t have enough contact with the Angels to notice the change of scent on them previously, but I could smell The Borderlands on them now.

Letting my gaze slide back to Seraphina, I continued, “He told me about a world he came from. A world you neglected to inform the Manor about.”

“It sounds like the ramblings of a madman,” she said with a sweet little smile, “Or the work of a writer.”

“Calling him a ‘writer’ would be generous,” I agreed, “He does enjoy meddling with journals. You would have heard of him. Joseph Smith?”

Seraphina’s expression remained much the same; eternal boredom, but with the wind still blowing into my face, I could smell the surprise on her before she buried it, purring, “Jumping into the deep end of a pool before you know how to walk is foolish, Princeling.”

“I always did do things backward,” I countered with a grin, “I know about The Borderlands. I want to know why you did not inform the Manor about another world, especially one that was stealing Korathians away.”

“There are Korathians that have been taken,” Seraphina finally acknowedged, tilting her head, her golden wings bristling. She didn’t like being caught out in a lie, but she wasn’t willing to risk Manor wrath by smiting me just yet, “They are mere blips; things that slip through the cracks that the Divider likes to snatch up. Lost souls that should have gone elsewhere.”

Did- Did she mean the Divider was stealing dead Korathians, and somehow giving them new life? No. There was no way. The Archangels would never have allowed such a transgression.

“And these blips end up in The Borderlands. What happens to them afterwards?”

“Some live, some die. The lives of bugs are of no concern to the giants that look over them.”

Arrogant bitch. One day, the Manor would order her death, and I would get the immense pleasure of watching my cousin shove a dagger through her heart.

“And Alcalie? What is that?”

The name finally registered a reaction from the Archangel Queen that was more than mild annoyance. Her lip curled back, revealing pearly-white teeth, her wings raising angrily on her back as she hissed, “Insolence!”

“How so? How can it be insolence if I don’t know anything about it?” I challenged boldly, Seraphina spinning on her heel, her wings nearly whipping me across the face, her Magic glowing around her- preparing to leave.

With a sneer over her shoulder toward me, she spat, “Joseph Smith is not what he seems, and you have worn through my patience. Prophecies are not something for you to meddle with, Prince of Demons!”

She vanished, taking her Angels with her, and I frowned, checking my watch as I began to walk out of the forest and toward my car, abandoned on the side of the road. The entire, unpleasant ordeal had lasted no longer than three minutes, and I’d gained, at best, scraps of information, whittled down to the bare bones. Had she even given me a lead? I scoured every word she’d spoken, looking for some kind of clue.

Joseph Smith is not what he seems. That one seemed obvious. I could tell just looking at him that he was not being honest.

Wearing through Seraphina’s patience wasn’t hard, not when it was as thick as a piece of wet newspaper.

What about the rest of it? About prophecies…

I didn’t believe in fate. It was a made-up thing for foolish people who needed an excuse for why they had not done more with their lives. If there was any part of fate I believed in, it was that Destiny and I were meant to be together. Not romantically, but spiritually. We shared a loyalty like nothing else. Saoirse may have called it co-dependency, but it was so much more than that.

Archangels often made up ‘prophecies’ to push people into doing their bidding.

After all, convincing someone to do your dirty work was a whole lot easier when you told them they were the ‘chosen one’ compared to telling them to get on their knees and dig. Prophecies made people fight harder, even when they should have given up long ago.

If Seraphina was mentioning a prophecy, and it somehow involved Joseph and the Manor, but not me, the ‘meddling Prince of Demons’, then the Archangel Queen wanted me far away from whatever she was scheming.

Had it been just my life on the line, I would have waited and seen where this nonsense prophecy took the Manor, but it wasn’t just me. It was Destiny whose life would suffer if I failed to gather intel for her.

Entering the private chambers of Des and I’s quarters, I entered my bedroom, kicking off my mud-stained shoes.

Needing something mindless to do while I thought everything over, I plucked up my sword from the rack it sat in, and a whittling stone, dragging it down the blade, trying to create some kind of mental timeline of everything.

Taron Carten discovered a new world, one that was still developing.

The Manor wanted him dead for that information, which meant there was something in that world they wanted. Or, they believed there was.

The Manor hadn’t mentioned this mystery thing to anyone.

The NightShade mission was classified on pain of death.

Then, almost a century later, Joseph Smith comes from this new world, bringing with him his wife, and tells the Sins that he is documenting our history. The Sins allow him to work with them, which means he has something they cannot simply kill him for.

Which meant it was in his mind. If it were some kind of vault, they would simply follow him. If it were any kind of object, or written history, they would find it.

What they needed was in Joseph’s mind. They had allowed him into the Manor so they could pick at his brains while he picked the Heirs’.

But Joseph coming here meant we had something he needed, too. He wasn’t just gathering intel on us to bide time, but also to use in case whatever plan he was making backfired. He was creating blackmail using information we gave him, because the Manor needed him to have it to discover what they needed, and he was only here because he needed something from the Manor. That was… convoluted, and complicated.

It was something that linked back to my cousin, judging by how desperate he was to discover what was beyond Destiny’s bedroom door.

Something that was probably written down in those journals of his.

It all linked back to those damned journals.

“Cain, they’re gone!” Alishan gasped, slamming open my door. I jolted, almost dropping the stone I was using to sharpen my sword, and demanded, “Who’s gone?!”

“No, the books! The books are gone!” My eyes snapped to my desk, only now noticing the drawer that was slightly ajar, left open by someone who had not cared if it was found. Alishan must have been waiting for me to come home so she could warn me.

I felt the blood drain from my face, cold horror slithering over my bones like a snake, and Alishan adjusted a bag slung over her shoulder, gasping, “I’m spending some time with Dinial! You should come with me!” She grabbed at my hand, wrenching me up from my seat, and Lillian entered the room, a worried look on her face, “Prince Cain, Lord Zeella wishes to speak with you in his office at once.”

Alishan looked panickedly to me, and I nudged her toward the door, urging softly, “Go to Dinial. I’ll text you later, if I can.”

If I was alive to do so.

If Lilith and the Sins were the ones to steal those books from me, including my notes on Project NightShade, then I was currently standing in my final moments of life.

There was no point dragging Alishan down with me. I would tell the Sins I acted alone, and that the treason I was committing was my own scheming, and nobody else’s.

If I was lucky, I would be able to spare Destiny’s Guardians.

Steeling myself, I went to Zeella’s office, pausing only to knock once on the door, which swung open. Seated inside was Zeella and Lilith, the both of them stern-faced. Across the desk were all of my notes; the NightShade case, the books about The Borderlands, even the notes I’d taken- statements from Destiny’s Guardians about what they had found in Ordeallan, how Darcie was desperate to improve his life, about Reece being a Night-Hunter, about Seraphina being mentioned in the history books of this new world.

A single swear word slipped out from my lips. A part of me had hoped the books had been moved by Lillian, or even Joseph.

It was Zeella who spoke first.

“Undignified, but an incredibly appropriate response to your situation, General. Enter and sit down.”

There was too much pride in me to tremble, and without Destiny available for them to hurt, I was confident in the way I pulled out my chair, spinning it so it was backwards, and taking a seat. If they were going to cut off my head, I would be able to rest my neck on the back of the chair. Nobody could say I was not pragmatic.

Turning the first of my notes to face me, Zeella waved a hand over them, “Care to explain yourself?”

“Private diary?” I offered up sarcastically, adding when his pupils narrowed with anger, “Your law said it was forbidden to speak of the NightShade case, not write about it.”

“It was illegal to mention the NightShade case,” my mother corrected in a clipped voice, “We are not filthy Faeries. Your semantics will not help you, Cain.”

At least she hadn’t called me ‘son’. I wouldn’t have liked hearing it from her lips, not when her manicured nails were biting into the skin of her arms, threatening to puncture through and draw blood.

Seeing as this was my one chance to explain everything, and I was damned lucky they had bothered to have a meeting rather than jump straight to murdering me, I said calmly, “Joseph Smith and Seraphina of the Archangels are working together. I haven’t discovered how or why yet, but-”

“We are aware of their alliance. You were not authorised to look into it.”

“As General of the Manor, I believe it my duty to-”

“As General of the Manor, your only duty is to follow the orders of your superiors. You, nor any other, were not authorised to investigate Joseph Smith, Queen Seraphina, or their unusual alliance. The Manor is aware of it, and creating their own plans.”

“I was not aware you knew-”

“You suspected us of ‘scheming’,” Lilith quoted with a satisfied hum, leaning over my notes to do so, “Did you not? I do wonder, son, why you use that word when I know you to be so particular of the words you use. ‘Scheming’ implies a level of distrust.”

“I used scheming because planning seemed too mundane for the Manor and its prowess-”

“Enough. You will be punished, Cain.”

Every excuse I tried, they cut me off, refusing to let me justify myself.

Settling myself with a slow inhale, I grit out, “Very well. Am I to be executed?”

Zeella and Lilith’s eyes locked onto mine with uncomfortable intensity. I didn’t glance over my shoulder, and despite being able to smell and hear that there was nobody else in the room, the way they were looking at me made me feel like an executioner was sneaking up on me with an axe. The hair rose on the back of my neck. I forced myself to keep their stare.

The air thickened with tension. There was a humming in my ears, like I could hear our wills clashing together in the space between our minds. Silently, I prayed for my cousin, hoping she would find a way to continue without me, and to find some semblance of joy in her life.

Lilith pressed red-coated lips together. Zeella set his jaw.

I ground my teeth together, waiting for their power to crush me. Waiting for some kind of poison to be administered, for a dagger to ram through my heart, for them to crush every bone in my body- “Fortunately for you, you brought valuable information back with you from Ordeallan. We are sparing you on that alone. Get out.” I shot to my feet, silently sending a prayer to the depths of Hell for the rare show of… Not mercy, but something else.

Scheming. It was just more scheming.

“Am I privy to that information?” I dared to ask, because the Manor would have wanted me to be ballsy enough to ask. Zeella hissed, but I smelt the flicker of approval on him at the daring.

“No. Leave before we change our minds. Do not meddle in this case again.”

I gripped the door handle, trying to push down against it, discovering that it was locked. Shit.

Lilith stood, her heels clacking against the floor, and I again steeled myself as she reached a hand for my cheek. It would be just like the Manor to trick me into believing I was safe before turning me into a fresh coat of paint across the walls.

She cradled it slowly. Zeella went still and silent in his seat.

“There are a series of items in Dimension Three that could help take us back to our glory. The books you brought us gave us hints as to where we could begin the search. We will retrieve these items through any means necessary. You will not yet be involved in Operation Eden, nor will you investigate this any further.”

Operation Eden.

It sounded so much worse than Project Lazarus.

Taking my silence, or maybe all of my research, for impatient sulking, she sung, “Have patience, son. You and your little toy of a cousin will be involved more than you could ever comprehend.” At my side, the door unlocked. Lilith lowered her hand from my face, and Zeella’s eyes slid to us, some of the frozen tension melting from his shoulders.

“Comply with Joseph Smith. Whatever he asks for, you make it happen. This is an order, General. If I hear that you refuse to answer his questions or comply to his demands, Destiny will be the first one executed for the insolence.” I hated that she knew exactly where to strike at me. She knew I did not care much about my own life, just as she knew that I would do anything to save Destiny.

Bowing my head to her, knowing it was the only way to spare Destiny’s life, I sighed, “Yes, mother.”

I would just have to avoid Joseph.