Page 127 of Hateful Prince

“No. Not literal death.”

“You feel her?”

“I do. Lingering in the shadows.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking about me. But no, he said her.

“Caleb, do you think it’s happening again? Is she taking her turn?”

“Gabriel warned us it wasn’t over. There are four of them. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. Just because we’ve had our turns and played our parts doesn’t mean that there aren’t other pawns being put into place.”

“Do you think they’ll succeed? Are they even prepared?”

“You can’t prepare for something like this. We didn’t.”

“You’re right. We just had to face the trials as they came and hope it was enough.”

“Hope. What an interesting choice of words, Mr. Donoghue. Not something I’d have expected from you.”

“My Duchess gave me a lot of things. Hope is one of them.”

“Aye. Sunday and Eden did that for me as well.”

“So what are we supposed to do? We can’t just sit back and do nothing, but we don’t even know who the players are.”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do, save watch and wait. But if it comes down to the apocalypse, I’ll fight with everything I have to save my family.”

“From the stories Rosie has shared, you already have.”

“Aye, and I’ll do it again if need be.”

Well, shit. This was the second time tonight the word apocalypse has been bandied about. I guess Lilith was right. There are no coincidences.

Wait.

Apocalypse.

Four of them.

Her.

The Horsewomen were up to something again. Fuck.

That didn’t bode well. Especially if Blackwood was at the heart of it.

As I pulled my shadows back into myself, I caught one final but intensely distressing conversation. Just a whisper from Oz and Bru, who’d gotten held up by the exit, but it was still loud enough for me to catch it.

“I heard his mind. He’s here.”

“What did you hear?”

“He’s going to use the ritual as a distraction. He’s going to strike. Tonight.”

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

DAHLIA