The Crest of the De Valois

She walked in a slow circle around Tristan and Antoine while Renzo kept the barrel of his pistol pressed against the King's temple.

Renzo's gaze toward Aurora was one of absolute support — he was the wall that allowed her to be the executioner.

"You sold me," Aurora continued, stopping in front of Antoine, who maintained an expression of wounded arrogance.

"You threw me into a cell so I could be 'conditioned.' And look now... look at whose hand you're going to die by. The 'little she-wolf' came home, and she brought winter with her."

Antoine tried to speak, his voice still attempting to hold an authority he no longer possessed.

"You don't understand the needs of a bloodline, Aurora... You were a necessary sacrifice for the survival of the De Valois name."

Aurora's slap was so fast the sound cracked like a gunshot.

"Don't you dare talk to me about necessity. Now you have one chance — just one — before I start peeling the skin off you, piece by piece. And I will do it, Antoine, whether you like it or not, because the pain you caused me can't fit into words — only in exposed flesh. Where is my mother?"

Tristan, watching his father's empire crumble, attempted one last move, but Renzo kicked him in the ribs, forcing him to collapse to his knees beside Antoine.

"The final suite," Tristan choked out, looking toward the massive door of oak and steel at the end of the corridor.

"But you'll never get in. The system is biometric. It needs the blood of a living heir and the King's heartbeat. If you kill us here, she starves to death inside. The oxygen is controlled."