Chapter 32
Savla
Hanna’s breath hitched unevenly against my throat, cold and shallow, each inhale a knife scraping down my spine. Her fingers clutched at my shirt—fistfuls of fabric, shaking and desperate—like if she let go, she’d be dragged back into the spell.
The bond hammered inside my chest, no longer quiet or buried. It roared now. Demanding, alive and answering her fear pulse for pulse. She was alive, breathing, and in my arms. I’d never felt relief so violent.
I angled her closer, my hand splayed across her spine to feel the faint rise and fall of her breath. Her hair brushed my jaw, soft and sweat-damp while her magick flickered weakly across my skin, trying to spark and grab onto me for stability.
I gave it everything it reached for, but behind us, Corwin wheezed and Hanna’s mother sighed. Actually sighed.
“How dramatic,” she drawled, sounding irritated at the inconvenience of her kidnapped daughter being rescued. “Hanna, darling, you’ve caused enough trouble for one evening.”
Hanna flinched like the words were a slap and anything that had ever resembled control inside of me shattered.
A low growl rumbled up from deep in my chest—instinctual, feral and utterly disgusted—that I didn’t try to hide.
My grip around her tightened. Krusk stepped in front of us, broad frame blocking Corwin from even breathing in our direction.
Tabitha, still haloed in residual spell-fire, turned her head slowly toward Hanna’s mother. Her eyes were no longer human—they glowed with ancient witchlight.
“I ought to turn you inside out,” Tabitha said, voice calm enough to be horrifying.
The female, who was clearly too stupid to realize that was a real possibility, rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Tabitha. It was a restraint spell—”
“A binding spell,” Tasia snapped, stepping forward, voice sharp as a blade. “Which is illegal and you know it. You used it on your own daughter.”
Hanna’s mother’s lip twitched. “If she insists on behaving the way she does, I see no issue.”
Tabitha’s fingers curled. The air behind her shimmered. If Zara hadn’t grabbed her arm and whispered, “Wait, I have a better hex,” I was certain Tabitha would’ve ripped the female’s soul out with her bare hands.
I would’ve enjoyed watching that. I might’ve even enjoyed helping however I could, but I was too busy keeping myself from tearing Corwin apart.
Because Corwin chose that moment—that unforgivable moment that revealed everything rotten in him—to push himself upright. He swayed, wiping blood from his mouth with a trembling hand, and then he dared to glare at Hanna.
“This,” he spat, pointing at me with a shaking finger, “is what you run to, Hanna? A hellspawn mongrel? A beast whose clan will be dust when Greyleaf and Ashvale merge?”
My entire body locked and my claws extended. But my Hanna whimpered. She whimpered. The sound was tiny—barely a breath and it detonated inside me.
Tabitha gasped softly and Enka froze, eyes wide, while Krusk’s fangs bared in a silent snarl. And I—I nearly dropped Hanna just to get both hands free to kill him.
My vision narrowed to a pinpoint but Dristan moved like thunder. He stood next to us, eyes glowing hot with bloodlust.
“Savla,” he snapped, “you can’t kill him.”
“Why not?” I growled, voice sharp enough to crack the air.
“Because I want to,” Dristan said.
With a snort, I punched Corwin so hard the man flew backward, smashing into a shelving unit with enough force to rattle the windows. Bottles shattered, glass rained and Corwin hit the floor in a ragdoll heap where he didn’t move.
Zara threw both fists in the air, while screaming, “Yes! Get absolutely wrecked, you string-bean bastard!”
Tasia barked a laugh, even while still fizzing with fury. Hanna’s mother finally reacted—by scowling.
“That was unnecessary.”
Tabitha glided forward, resting a deceptively gentle hand on my shoulder. “You hold your tongue, Greyleaf, or I’ll hex your face backward.”
Hanna’s mother’s eyes narrowed into slits. “This girl is our daughter.”
“No,” Hanna whispered weakly, her voice raw and cracked. She lifted her head slightly from my shoulder, her hair sticking to her cheek. “No, I’m not.”
Her mother scoffed. “Don’t be dramatic.”
Hanna trembled harder and my jaw clenched so tight pain shot up into my temples. I bent my head toward her, the words slipping out before I even decided to speak.
“Don’t listen to them,” I murmured into her hair. “You’re not theirs.”
Her breath caught at my words and her soft eyes looked up into mine, tears pooling at the corner. Zara stepped between Hanna’s parents and us, eyes burning like she was ready to hex their bloodline apart.
“She’s ours now.”
Every witch behind her nodded—silent, unified and unyielding. Hanna’s breath hitched again and the bond vibrated softly, like her heart couldn’t contain the sudden swell of hope. Zara lifted her wand high.
“Everyone,” she commanded, “form up. We leave together.”
Krusk and Enka instantly closed ranks around me and Hanna.
Dristan motioned to his warriors, who lined up like a living iron shield.
The coven shifted behind them, forming shimmering walls of protective spells—purple, gold, and violet lights humming in synchronized pulses.
As we moved toward the manor entrance, Hanna’s body softened against mine, her head settling in the crook of my neck.
“Savla…” she breathed, voice like broken glass.
“I’m here,” I murmured. “I’m not letting you go.”
She pressed closer, letting out a tiny, broken sound that shredded me. Outside, Ribbon waited impatiently. The mountain toad was pacing frantically, croaking with such deep distress the bushes shook. When he spotted Hanna in my arms, he let out a long, guttural wail and hopped in crazed circles.
“I know,” I told him softly. “I know, boy. She’s okay.”
Ribbon stopped right at my feet, pressing his huge head against my thigh. I brushed the crest of his head gently with my knuckles.
Krusk guided us toward the SUVs, scanning every shadow while Enka darted ahead to yank open a door, eyes flickering protectively between Hanna and the tree line. Tabitha approached as we reached the vehicle.
“She’ll need detoxing,” she said quietly. “And grounding. That level of glamor poisoning can cause full hallucinations, time disorientation, or soul-splintering.”
My stomach lurched violently. “Soul—?”
“She’ll be okay,” Tabitha assured. “But she needs rest. And she needs someone she trusts near her.”
Hanna shivered against me. “Cold…” she whispered.
I wrapped my jacket around her shoulders without hesitation. She tucked her face into the oversized collar and inhaled softly before she settled like the fabric was sanctuary. Like I was sanctuary.
The coven began chanting again, their voices rising rhythmically and my clan moved to secure the perimeter, forming a protective corridor from the estate to the SUVs. Before climbing in, I looked back at the Greyleaf Estate.
The charred garden twisted with rot, the windows breathing shadows and the halls echoing with neglect and greed. It was the place that raised her, starved her, used her and discarded her.
My chest burned, and in that moment, without fanfare or ceremony or spoken vow, something inside me solidified. She would never return here. Not while she lived, while I drew breath and the bond existed between us.
Not while I loved her.
I turned away from the estate and climbed into the van with her in my arms, and for the first time that night—her breathing eased.