laughed, wiping at his lip. “Finally. Perhaps you’ll be a worthy Terriot yet. Is it your plan to kill me, pup? Have you finally found a spine?”
“You plotted to murder those who once looked up to you!”
“Once,” Bram growled, narrowed eyes flashing. “Then they turned to him,” he jerked his head toward Cale, “the runt of the litter who dares stand in my place. How did that turn out for them? For her?”
That last drawling insult brought a flame of retribution into Kip’s cheeks. Though fury quaked through his tall form, he held fast to his composure as he looked to his brother. “He can’t be allowed to live.”
Cale vowed, “He won’t.”
Bram’s laugh boomed. “And you’re going to handle that, weak little boy king? Or will you give that pleasure to this child, if he can find the stomach to finally act like a prince? Who among you groveling curs has ever had the courage to stand up to me? Who?”
Cale ignored those slurs to regard his youngest brother. “Kip, he’s taken the most from you. It’s your right. If you don’t take it, I will. He ends here, now.”
The youngest prince considered the weight of that offer, his opportunity to stand strong before those he’d failed in the past with his hesitation, his chance to redeem those weaknesses with one swift act. But instead he replied, “No. I have what I came for.” He lifted the phone that had recorded their father’s damning words. “When they hear this, our people will know they were never his priority.” As Bram sneered at his supposed softness, he added, “I’ll give that honor to one more deserving. His information led us to Lee and helped expose those who’d used our father against us. He helped bait this trap.”
Bram’s smirk froze as a familiar figure entered the room.
Joseph Fraser’s glare ripped through Bram Terriot the way the tyrant had torn his own father’s life from him. Hatred threatened, but he overcame it to speak respectful words to Cale, his nephew’s brother, their king.
“I’ve done you and your family an unforgivable wrong. I believed those who said my father would find no justice until I destroyed everything Terriot. I was a fool. My father lives on in this boy,” Fraser continued proudly, his hand pressing Kip’s shoulder, “and in his brothers and sisters. You protected them when I thought only of myself. You can lift this clan from the stain of Bram the Beast. But my pain, my family’s pain, can only be cleansed in his blood. I’ve no right to expect mercy. But I beg you, my king, don’t deny me the right to avenge my family.”
Cale nodded toward their father, expression hardening. “He breathes his last in the next minutes. We’ll sink him in the bayou and let vermin consume his soul without release. He has no place amongst our ancestors.” He toed Stephen’s still form. “Neither of them does.”
“My son, you don’t mean that.” Bram paled, alarmed by the thought of a mortal end without redemption. But the clan’s new king never wavered, not in harsh stare or strong words.
“I’ll show you the same compassion you’ve taught us with every blow from your hand, with every act of cruelty you’ve shown others without a thought to their suffering. You end here, now. Let it be by the Fraser family’s hand so those they’ve lost can rest in peace.” He nodded to Joe, declaration rumbling.
“Send him to hell with my blessing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
In the middle of a surprisingly warm early afternoon, Max purposefully made their meeting very public, brunch at the crowded Court of the Two Sisters. A fitting place considering its depth of history, one as filled with promise and despair and resurrection as their own.
As he seated his mate at one of the iron café tables beneath trees, sky and small swooping birds seeking crumbs from buffet plates, his hands lingered on the strong set of her shoulders. Bending low, cheek pressing the modest wave of once aggressively spiked, black hair, he breathed her in, savoring the unique blend of Voodoo Love and her own irresistible pheromones, made that much more potent by the link they’d made between them. Possessive desire stirred, as strong as the Mississippi’s current, as suddenly fragile as their future dreams. His. Forever and always.
As her palm fit to the rugged terrain of his face, fingertips charting the familiar ridge of cheekbone, ear and the curl of dark hair behind it, he forced himself to straighten before