Chapter 58
Chapter
Fifty-Eight
SABLE
T he roar of the crowd is deafening, but it fades into the background as I stand at the edge of the arena, my heart pounding in time with the fight unfolding in front of me. Torin’s movements are sharp, calculated chaos—a deadly dance of steel and muscle that seems almost effortless for him. He’s laughing, of course, reveling in the bloodlust and the challenge. That’s Torin. He thrives on this madness.
Kael, though...Kael is different. His blade arcs with precision, his strikes deliberate, but there’s a tension in his shoulders, a tightness in his jaw that sets my nerves on edge. He’s angry. I can feel it through the bond, simmering and sharp, like a blade poised to break skin.
“They’re doing fine,” Finn says beside me, his voice calm and measured, as if he’s reading my mind. “Torin is enjoying himself too much to lose, and Kael—well, he’s angry, but he’ll refocus.”
I glance at Finn, narrowing my eyes. “And what happens if he doesn’t? You know as well as I do that Kael doesn’t fight well when he’s distracted.”
Finn arches an eyebrow. “Kael’s the Alpha for a reason. He knows how to handle himself.” He pauses, then looks at me. “But you could help him.”
I blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“Push calm through the bond,” he says simply. “He trusts you now, whether he likes it or not. Use that.”
I hesitate, my gaze flickering back to the fight. Kael’s movements are growing more erratic, his frustration bleeding into every swing of his blade. Torin, meanwhile, is grinning like a madman, completely unbothered by the chaos around him.
“Do it,” Finn urges, his voice steady but firm. “He needs you.”
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and focus on the bond, on the connection that ties Kael and me together. I picture calm—cool, steady waves washing over his anger, grounding him, pulling him back to the control he thrives on.
When I open my eyes, I see the shift almost immediately. Kael steadies, his movements becoming smoother, more precise. He counters a brutal strike from his opponent with ease, forcing the warlock back a step. Relief floods through me, and I exhale slowly.
“It worked,” I murmur, more to myself than to Finn.
“Of course it did,” Finn says with a small smirk. “He might not admit it, but Kael needs you just as much as he needs us.”
I don’t respond, but my worry doesn’t entirely fade. My gaze flickers to the edges of the arena, scanning the crowd. Something feels off, like a shadow creeping just out of sight.
“What is it?” I ask, noticing the way Finn’s eyes narrow.
He doesn’t answer right away, his focus sharp and unyielding. Then his jaw tightens. “Rothgar’s gone.”
I whip my head around, following his line of sight. He’s right. Rothgar is nowhere to be seen, and unease coils in my stomach like a living thing. “What does that mean?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.
Finn turns to me, his expression unreadable. “Do you trust me?”
I blink, caught off guard by the question. “What?”
“Do you trust me?” he repeats, his tone urgent.
I hesitate, but then I nod. “Yes, I trust you.”
He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then steps back. “I’ll be back for you. I promise.”
Before I can say anything, he’s gone, vanishing into the crowd like a shadow slipping into the night. I exhale shakily, my eyes darting around the arena. The fight continues, but my focus is split, my unease growing by the second.
My gaze lands on Kael, and our eyes lock. His expression is tight, his concern bleeding through the bond. I can feel it, the weight of his worry pressing against my chest.
And then I feel it—a shift in the air, a presence behind me.
The realization hits me a second too late. Cold steel presses against my throat, and a hot, foul breath ghosts against my ear.
“Did you really think you could walk out of here alive, little witch?” Rothgar’s voice is low and menacing, sending a shiver down my spine.
My heart pounds as I try to twist away, but his grip is like iron. My gaze darts back to the arena just in time to see Kael falter. His opponent strikes, and Kael goes down, blood blooming from his side.
I scream, the sound ripping from my throat as panic crashes over me. Rothgar’s laughter echoes in my ear, cruel and triumphant, and for the first time, I feel truly, utterly helpless.
Rothgar’s grip tightens on my throat, his voice dripping with malice. “Here’s how this works, little witch. You tell your precious sabers to throw the fight, or I’ll slit your throat right here in front of them. Let them watch as you bleed out like the fragile thing you are.”
I force myself to steady my breathing, swallowing the panic threatening to choke me. “I’d rather die at your blade,” I spit, the words sharper than the knife pressed against my skin. “I won’t help you.”
He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating against my ear. “Brave words, but foolish. Do you think they’ll survive your loss? They're bound to you now. I see the markings on your wrist.” He leans closer, his breath hot and rancid against my cheek. “Your death is their death. But if death is what you want, little witch, that can be arranged.”
The blade presses harder against my throat, the sting of steel biting into my skin as the crowd roars around us, oblivious to what’s happening on the sidelines. My heart pounds wildly, the world narrowing to the edge of his knife and the cruel triumph in his voice.