THE LAST WAR GENERAL

The Lamb and the Wolf 2

The blade was in Dominic’s hand before anyone saw him draw it. One clean motion, Marcus’s scream cut off mid-breath.

The body collapsed.

Silence crashed over the ballroom like a physical force.

“NO!” Richard’s howl was animal, inhuman. “No—not my son—NOT MY SON!” He lunged forward, broken ribs forgotten, reaching for Marcus’s body.

Webb’s boot caught him in the chest, slamming him back down.

Dominic cleaned the blade on a white tablecloth, leaving a streak of crimson across the expensive fabric. “You want to talk about family now, Uncle?” His voice was eerily calm. “You want to invoke blood ties? Where was your sense of family when you murdered my mother? When you poisoned my father? When you broke my hands and sent me to rot in prison?”

“That was—we didn’t—it wasn’t—” Richard couldn’t form a coherent sentence through his sobs.

“If I spare you now,” Dominic continued, his voice rising, “who spared my parents? WHO?!” The shout echoed off crystal chandeliers. “Answer me, you piece of filth! Who showed them mercy when they begged for their lives?!”

Richard crumpled, pressing his forehead to the blood-stained floor. “Please… please… I’m your uncle… spare me… I’ll give you everything—the company, the assets, all of it—”

“I don’t want what you stole.” Dominic’s voice went cold again. “I want what you can never give back.” He turned to Webb. “Break both their legs. Every bone below the knee.”

Vivienne’s scream could have shattered glass.

The other Kane family members, who’d been pressed against the walls in silent terror, suddenly found their voices.

“Wait! We didn’t do anything!”

“This wasn’t our fault—we didn’t know about the murders!”

“Dominic, please—we’re family—we never hurt you!”

Dominic’s laugh was cold and sharp. “You never hurt me?” He walked toward them, and they shrank back like prey before a predator. “My father wasn’t the eldest son, but he was the most capable. He built this empire. Expanded it. Made all of you wealthy beyond measure. And my grandparents knew it—they trusted him with most of the family assets.”

He stopped in front of Richard’s younger brother, James Kane, who stood trembling in his thousand-dollar suit. “And you. You were terrified of my father’s success. Jealous of his talent. So when Uncle Richard made his move, when he murdered my father and seized control—what did you do?”

James’s mouth opened and closed.

“You did nothing,” Dominic answered for him. “You stood by. Turned a blind eye. Let it happen. Because it benefited you, didn’t it? All of you got your share when they divided up my father’s assets.”

“We didn’t kill anyone!” someone protested weakly.

“No. You just profited from murder. Is that supposed to be better?” Dominic’s smile was a terrible thing. “I repay both gratitude and hatred in full. That’s always been my way.” He gestured to the opulent ballroom around them. “You’ll all stay here. In this beautiful hall. For one month. If you survive, the debt is settled.”

Confusion rippled through the crowd.

“What do you mean, stay here?”

Dominic turned to Webb. “Seal every exit. Post guards at every door, every window, every service entrance. No one enters. No one leaves. Anyone who tries to break in or escape is killed on sight. No exceptions.”

Webb saluted. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Wait—” James Kane stepped forward. “You can’t be serious. A month? Without food? Without—”

“You have plenty of food.” Dominic gestured at the banquet tables still laden with untouched delicacies. “Champagne. Caviar. Fine cuisine. The same luxuries you’ve enjoyed for five years while my parents rotted in hastily dug graves.”

The implication settled over them slowly, horribly.

“When the food runs out…” someone whispered.

Dominic carefully removed the fragment of his parents’ tombstone from his pocket—the piece he’d placed on the table earlier. He looked at it for a long moment, then tucked it away with infinite gentleness. “Goodbye, Uncle Richard. Aunt Vivienne. Family.”

He turned and walked toward the exit, Webb following.

Behind him, Richard’s anguished howl echoed through the ballroom. “The War God is coming here tonight! He was invited! When His Excellency arrives and sees what you’ve done, you’ll pay for this! YOU’LL BURN FOR THIS!”

Dominic paused at the doorway but didn’t turn around.

Webb, confused, leaned close. “My Lord, why spare them? If you wanted them dead—”

“I’m not sparing them,” Dominic said quietly. His eyes were distant, cold. “In three days, maybe four, the food will run out. They’ll get hungry and desperate.” He finally looked at Webb. “And when desperation sets in, when survival instinct takes over, they’ll turn on each other. They’ll fight over scraps. And eventually…” A smile touched his lips, devoid of any warmth. “Eventually they’ll realize the only food left in that room is each other.”

Webb’s face went pale.

“Richard and Vivienne will be the first to go,” Dominic continued. “The others will tear them apart. Justice delivered by their own family, their own allies. The people who stood by and profited from murder.” He stepped through the doorway. “Living through that? That’s the cruelest punishment I can imagine. Death would be mercy.”

The doors closed behind them with a final, resonant boom.