Chapter 52 #3
“Details.” Brynelle winced as she cradled her ribs.
Darian let out an uneven sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I swear to the fucking gods,” he grumbled. “You are all imbeciles.”
Before I could even attempt to sit up, a shadow loomed beside me.
I turned as Cindrissian knelt, hands hovering, assessing my injuries. His focus settled on my mangled leg, taking in the unnatural angle, the way my hand trembled where it braced against the ground.
I knew that look. It was the look of a male already calculating exactly how much damage had been done.
“I’d say I’ll walk it off,” I rasped, a humourless smile tugging at my lips, “but that might be a little difficult.”
A pause.
“I suppose crawling is always an option.” The words startled me.
Not because of what he said, but because it was Cindrissian.
Cindrissian—who never joked, never played. But there it was.
Shaelith blinked. Brynelle stared.
I snorted. Actually snorted.
And for a moment, the anger in the room ebbed.
But then—
Varyth.
He’d been so still, so silent in the corner that I hadn’t even noticed him.
But now, he stepped forward, his entire body vibrating with fury.
“What the hell did you do?” The roar that tore from his throat shook the fucking walls.
The air rippled with power that shouldn’t have been there, not with the collar wrapped around his throat, suppressing his magic.
And yet it leaked from him, poured from him. His rage too vast, too consuming to be contained.
Silver eyes burned as the full force of his wrath slammed into me, into all of us. A muscle in his jaw ticked violently, his hands flexing at his sides, as though he was physically restraining himself from grabbing me and shaking some sense into me.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He gestured wildly at the three of us, then cut his glare straight at me. “You could have been killed. You should have been killed.”
I lifted my head from where I had braced against the ground, every part of me aching, bruised, screaming.
“Would’ve saved us a lot of trouble,” I said, voice hoarse. “At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to you yell.”
The sound that tore from Varyth’s throat was pure animal.
“Gods-damn you, Isara.” He stepped closer, his power pressing against me, against all of us, suffocating. “You’re bleeding, you can’t move, and you think this is funny?”
I hissed as pain ripped up my leg. “Little bit.”
Varyth’s wings flared behind him, his hands raking through his hair, as though trying to physically force the fury from his body. His head tipped back for one long second, his chest heaving, before his glare snapped back down to me.
“How did it happen?” he growled. “If your plan was so clever, how the fuck did this happen?”
I tilted my head. Took my sweet, sweet time.
Then I lifted my broken leg. The twist of pain making my vision edge with black, and said dryly, “I tripped.”
A snarl ripped from Varyth’s throat, his hand fisting at his side, trembling as though struggling to keep himself from slamming it into something.
Shaelith let out a quiet snort, then immediately winced at the bruises blooming along her ribs. Brynelle turned her face away, hiding her laugh.
But Varyth looked ready to burn the whole fucking cell to the ground.
“You… tripped?” he repeated, low and lethal.
I nodded. Solemn.
“A real hazard, these Nyxarian floors,” I added. “Might have to file a complaint.”
Varyth took a shaking inhale. His face contorted with an emotion even more dangerous than fury.
In an instant, he was crouched before me, his face inches from mine, his eyes molten.
“You think this is a joke?” His breath was hot as it fanned over my face. “Do you think I enjoy seeing you like this?”
“Would be a weird kink,” I muttered through a bloody smirk.
Varyth’s entire body locked.
If I had to guess, he was probably physically holding back the need to strangle me.
Then, a whisper, “You’re infuriating.”
I let my head rest back against the stone, my body screaming, my bones shattered glass inside my skin. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
I shifted, and agony ripped down my leg. A choked sound escaped me, the pain so deep and overwhelming it stole the air from my lungs.
A voice, dry and cool as steel, broke the silence. “It’s a bad break.”
I forced my eyes open as Cindrissian crouched beside me, taking in my leg with detached interest. His hands ghosted over the injury, reading the damage.
“Without a healer, I’m not sure how this will go,” he said flatly. “But I can set it back into place. It’ll just hurt like hell.”
I huffed a laugh, my body trembling from the waves of pain pulsing through me. “Oh good,” I rasped. “I was worried it’d feel nice.”
Varyth snarled as his fingers dug into his thighs, his fury simmering.
“Gods-fucking-damn it, Isara.” Darian’s wings flared as he paced. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Obviously.” Cindrissian glanced up at my face.
For a second, our eyes locked. And in that moment, something passed between us—unspoken, knowing. Because he understood. Maybe more than the others ever could.
I took a single, steadying breath. “Don’t warn me.” I gritted my teeth. “Just do it.”
I hadn’t finished speaking before Varyth moved.
One second, I was on the ground. The next, I was in his arms.
“Hold on to me,” he breathed against my temple. “Hold on, Isara.”
Cindrissian’s hands ghosted over the break, poised, steady. A single beat of hesitation. Then he moved.
The pain was instant, excruciating, unbearable.
A white-hot spike shot through my leg, tearing through every nerve, searing into my bones. I distantly registered the snarl that ripped from Varyth’s throat, the way his grip on me tightened.
My world ruptured—
And then went dark.