I stepped back, my body slamming against the wall. I’d cornered myself.

“I want to destroy Damon. And death would be far too easy,” Samuel hissed, stepping up to me and laying one hand on each shoulder. “So I will make him pay first. I’ll take him away from the London society he loves so much and ruin the image he enjoys maintaining. That was the plan, and that’s what shall be carried out,” Samuel explained, his face now inches away from mine. “When you came along, I didn’t have quite as much time to plot your punishment. But I’m quite pleased by what I came up with. I ruined the family you loved so much and blamed it on you. I got your girl to come to the dark side . . . I think I did rather well,” Samuel said, smiling.

“Why are you doing this to us? What have we ever done to you?” I asked, trying to placate him by not struggling. My mind was whirling. I could just hear the sound of shouting in the distance, and knew it wouldn’t be long before an angry mob surrounded the cabin.

“You did enough. And I don’t really feel like giving you a history lesson. But speaking of brothers, I do know that you hurt mine. And I think that alone makes a rather strong case against us being friends, don’t you agree?” he asked. His smile was dangerous, and I knew he was about to pounce. I closed my eyes, gathered my strength, and charged toward him, hoping the surprise of my action would catch him off guard.

But quicker than lightning, he wrestled me to the ground until I was pinned underneath him. With his face only inches from mine, I could smell human blood on his breath.

I twisted free and scrambled backward. He seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once, and suddenly, I caught the whiff of something burning. Our scuffle had upset a table, and an overturned candle had started a fire, the flames licking the dry pine walls. The light from the flames danced on Samuel’s angular face. Our eyes locked for a moment, and a faint smile crossed Samuel’s lips. Then he lunged toward me, catching me unaware as he pushed me toward the hearth. I fell onto my knees.

“Get out,” Samuel barked to Violet, who ran toward the door, leaving Oliver’s lifeless body on the ground.

“You’ve lived for far too long,” he said, quickly grabbing a chair and snapping it over his knee as if it were a twig. He stood over me, each foot on either side of my waist, one hand holding a broken chair limb, ready for it to serve as a stake.

But instead of driving it into my chest, he glanced at me in disgust, then spit onto my face.

“You’re not worth killing; that’s too easy,” Samuel muttered, almost to himself. “I want you to suffer. You deserve it. In fact, that’s the only thing you deserve.”

I closed my eyes, not bothering to fight. Instead, I allowed my mind to conjure up Callie. Sweet, fierce Callie, with red hair and freckled skin and mischievous eyes. I knew this would be the last time I saw her, even in my imagination. She was surely in heaven, and I would soon be bound for hell.

With Samuel’s swift motion, pain was everywhere. The stake had driven through my chest, but missed my heart. Pain radiated from the wound to my hands, my feet, my brain.

“Enjoy hell,” Samuel said with a laugh. Then he swept out the door, leaving me in the fire-filled cabin, a precursor to what I knew was to be my final resting place.