His warlord—his father—was mocking him.
Havik growled with frustration. The blaster lay on the table between them. Kaos lifted one brow, curious to see what Havik would do.
“How many?”
“Enough. One warrior is much like another,” Kaos said, giving a dismissive wave of one hand. “Those who could not be replaced were allowed to keep their inferior mates.” Kaos gave Havik an appraising look. “And you.”
Havik huffed. “Stars forbid you imply that your son is irreplaceable.”
“I did you a service. That Terran was weak. Her sons would not be strong enough to thrive.”
“My sons,” Havik said quietly.
“You will not pollute our clan with inferior genes. Bad enough that your mother was weak and died birthing you, but I shouldn’t be surprised. You were always soft and slow, like her. I did everything for you, Havik. I should have left you out in the desert when you were an infant, but instead, I found you a new mother. Silly female. I told her not to coddle you.”
Havik reached for the blaster, his fingers gripping the handle tight. With his thumb, he ratcheted up the power to the maximum setting and the weapon hummed. His stepmother was not a perfect being, but she had been kind and caring to him as a child when his father had only ever been distant.
He leveled the weapon at Kaos.
The older male’s eyes sparked with amusement. “Will you pull the trigger? I wonder. I used to think you would be the warlord after me. Now can be your moment.”
Such vile words. Kaos had only contempt and bitterness for his son. Why should Havik show the male any respect? This bitter old male stole his mate and dishonored him in the eyes of the clan. His only family—the ones who cared for him—had been the clan, and now they regarded him with disdain.
He should end Kaos now. No one would mourn the male. Everyone would thank him if they knew what he did.
Havik gnashed his teeth, growling in frustration.
The blaster jerked to one side and fired, a bolt of light scorching the air and leaving a hole in the wall just over Kaos’ shoulder. The scent of burnt ozone filled the air.
Kaos turned on his stool to admire the smoldering hole, then twisted back with a smirk on his face.
Havik powered down the blaster and stuck it in the waistband of his trousers. “I did not spare you out of affection. You have never been a father to me, and I see you now for the traitorous warlord that you are. If I ended you, the clan would not follow me. They believe I have no honor.”
Kaos titled his head to one side. He had never considered the warrior before him as a threat, that much was obvious from his disdain and cruel words, but now he perhaps saw an opponent for the first time. “You made it easy to believe.”
“You lie. You twist words. One day you will be seen for the sand viper that you are, and someone will challenge you.”
“But not you.”
The temptation to take the clan from the older male enticed him. To show Kaos that he was wrong about his son, had always been wrong not to love him, tempted him with bittersweet promises. The satisfaction of standing over his old male’s body would be fleeting, Havik knew. Revenge never satisfied for long. It was a sugary, air-spun dream and dissolved the moment of consumption.
“A warrior may gain the power of a warlord through violence, but he must be capable and cunning to hold onto that responsibility. A clan will not follow an unworthy male,” Havik said. He would remain unworthy until he found his mate and made amends.
“Find a suitable mate. Make strong sons for the clan. Surely some female will have you,” Kaos said.
“No,” Havik said. “I have always known you were never a father to me. Now it is clear that you were never my warlord, either. There is no place for me here. I will be gone by morning.”
The knowing smirk vanished from Kaos’ face, replaced by fury. “If you leave, you can never return. Never! I will strike your name from the clan’s history and forbid anyone from ever mentioning you again!” Spit flew from his mouth as he shouted.
Havik paused in the door and turned to face the older male. He wanted to warn him that one day Kaos would learn that he could not control the hearts of his clan and Havik would regret not seeing him learn that lesson, but there was little point. Kaos only ever listened to himself.
“By morning’s light,” he said.
“I cannot remain here,” Havik said, certain what steps he needed to take next for the first time in ages.
“I’m coming with you,” Ren said.
“No.”
“Afraid I’ll ruin your self-loathing?”
“This is not your battle,” Havik said.
Ren placed a hand on Havik’s shoulder and held his gaze. “You are my brother. If not by blood, then in my heart. You failed your mate, as did I.”
“You did not—”
“Listen. I failed your mate. I saw how the warlord treated her with contempt and how the clan refused to accept her, but I did nothing. I could have made myself her friend. If she knew she had an ally, she would not have so readily believed the warlord’s lies.”
Havik nodded, accepting his friend’s truth but knowing that the blame rested on his shoulders. He failed his mate. He had been selfish and did not notice her isolation or loneliness. His thoughtless actions cost him his honor.
“I will regain my honor,” he said. “I will find my mate and beg for forgiveness. Reclaim her. Bring her home.” The scope of what he needed to accomplish unfurled before him.
He had many miles to travel.
“I’m leaving the clan,” Havik repeated, so Ren understood the implications.
“Agreed. I cannot remain with the warlord. Not now.”
“That means leaving your father.”
Ren skimmed his hand along the surface of the water
