The hall fell silent. Every instinct screamed at her to finish it, to ensure Ravenna never came after them again. Ravenna had tried to kill her, had tortured Azrael, and had built an entire organization to destroy everything Azrael had built.
The choice was obvious.
But killing a wounded enemy who was begging for death, felt wrong to Lyanna. She looked at Azrael in the crowd. He was standing, gripping the barrier with white-knuckled hands, his eyes fixed on her.
Through the bond that was still active, she felt his internal struggle. He had centuries of justified hatred for the vampire who had created him, used him, abandoned him, and then tried to reclaim him like property. That hatred wanted Ravenna dead. He wanted this to be over.
But under that hatred, there was a desperate hope that Lyanna wouldn't do what he would have done in her place. He wanted her to stay true to herself instead of becoming what the others expected her to be.
"The decision must be yours." He muttered.
