Chapter 27
Kieran
The bond pulsed stronger with every mile.
Not the comfortable warmth I was used to—this was pain. Fear. Exhaustion. Each flicker through our connection made my chest tighten, made the horse beneath me push harder, even though we'd been riding for hours.
She was alive. Hurt, terrified, but alive.
I clung to that.
"We're getting close," Henrick said from my left, his pale eyes distant. "The magical disturbance is stronger here. Blood magic, old and powerful. It's like a stain on the world."
Lorenzo rode on my right, silent and deadly, checking his weapons with mechanical precision. He hadn't said a word since we'd left the castle at dawn, but I could feel the cold fury radiating from him. Someone had threatened his future sister-in-law. That made it personal.
"How much farther?" My voice came out rough. I hadn't stopped to rest, hadn't eaten, had barely spoken since we left. The sun was climbing now, painting the Divide in shades of gold and shadow.
"Minutes. Maybe less." Henrick's hands moved in the air, following threads only he could see. "The magic is... anchored. Not moving. She's stationary."
Good. That meant we could reach her. That Tobias hadn't taken her farther away.
Through the bond, I sent everything I had: “Hold on. I'm coming. Hold on.”
Did she hear it? I couldn't tell. The connection was too weak, too damaged by whatever spell he'd used. But I kept sending it anyway, over and over, like a prayer.
Behind us, Nikolai and Solis rode in grim silence. Solis’ guilt was a palpable thing—he'd been there twenty years ago, had saved her from Tobias once. Now she was in danger again because of secrets he'd kept.
We'd deal with that later. Right now, we were getting her back.
Nikolai's spelled mirror chimed. He pulled it from his coat, and Rhett's gravelly voice came through.
"We found something."
"Talk," I ordered, leaning closer.
"Old orphanage on the northern edge of the Divide. Decommissioned about twelve years ago. No one's been near it in a decade." Rhett paused. "Except last night. Local saw lights in the basement. Said it looked like torches or candles."
My blood ran cold.
An orphanage. In the Divide.
Where Merrit had grown up.
Tobias hadn't just taken her. He'd taken her home. Back to the one place she'd felt safe, and he was using it to destroy her.
"We're watching the building now," Rhett continued. "No movement in or out since last night. But there's definitely someone inside. Jex can feel it—says there's death magic in the air."
"We're close," I said. "Hold position. Don't engage until we arrive."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Rhett said. "That's our girl in there. We're not letting her down."
The connection ended.
"An orphanage," Solis said quietly. His voice carried guilt, grief, knowledge. "I took her there. After I found her. After Tobias—"
"I know." I didn't look at him. Couldn't. "We'll deal with that later. Right now, we get her back."
Lorenzo's hand found my shoulder and squeezed once. Solidarity. Support. Then he pulled out his own spelled mirror, spoke quickly into its surface. "We have the location. Bring my warriors through.”
A voice crackled back—the court mage confirming the order.
Lorenzo tucked the mirror away and met my eyes. We'd face whatever was coming together—with reinforcements on the way.
We rode harder.
The building appeared through the morning mist like a ghost.
Three stories of gray stone, windows dark and empty, the kind of institutional architecture built for function rather than beauty. The front door hung slightly open, weeds growing through cracks in the steps.
Abandoned. Forgotten.
Perfect for what Tobias needed.
Rhett and Jex emerged from the shadows as we dismounted. Rhett looked like he always did—compact, wiry, sharp-eyed, with intricate braids falling past his shoulders and glass vials strapped across his chest like a bandolier. But there was steel in his expression now, none of his usual easy charm.
And Jex...
Jex was seven feet of pure demonic fury.
Gray skin, horns that curved back from his forehead, adding another foot to his height, eyes like molten gold, and an expression that promised violence.
He wore minimal armor—didn't need it when his skin was that thick—and carried a massive war hammer that would have required three normal men to lift.
"They have Merrit." Jex's voice rumbled like distant thunder. Not a greeting. Not a courtesy. Just the only fact that mattered.
Not “the lady” or “Miss Locke.” Merrit. Our girl.
The accusation in his gold eyes was clear: This is your fault. You brought her into this.
"I know," I said, meeting his stare. I wouldn't look away. Wouldn't make excuses. "And we're getting her back."
"Damn right we are." Rhett's voice was hard. "Six to eight hostiles in the basement. Multiple heartbeats. Jex can feel death magic saturating the place."
Jex's massive hand tightened on his war hammer. "If she's dead when we get down there, Prince or not, you and I are going to have words." His grim mouth curved into a cruel smile. “And by words, I mean I’ll smash your fucking head in with my hammer. Are we clear?”
It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.
"She's alive," I said. Through the bond, I could feel her—hurt, terrified, but alive. "I can feel her."
"Then let's move," Jex growled. "Before that changes."
Lorenzo dismounted with fluid grace, already assessing the building with a military commander's eye. "Multiple entry points, but they'll be watching all of them. We go in fast and hard—no time for stealth after we breach."
"Agreed," I said.
Through the bond, I felt her. Closer now. So close I could almost—
Pain. Sharp and sudden, like a knife dragging across skin. I sucked in a harsh breath, hand going to my chest.
"Kieran?" Lorenzo was beside me immediately, steadying me.
"He's hurting her." My voice shook with barely controlled fury. "Right now. We need to move. Now."
“My men—” Lorenzo started.
"We can't wait." I was already moving toward the building. "Every second we delay is another second he has her. They'll follow when the mage brings them through."
We entered the building as quietly as seven armed warriors could.
The main floor was exactly as I'd imagined—dust-covered furniture, faded paintings on walls, the sad remnants of a place that had once housed children. Merrit had lived here. Learned to sign here. Heard stories about Whisperbound and thought they were fairy tales.
Now it was a tomb.
Footprints in the dust led toward the back of the building. Recent. Multiple sets.
We followed them to a door, reinforced with iron bands. A basement entrance, locked and barred from our side.
"Stand back," Jex rumbled.
He didn't wait for agreement. Just raised his war hammer and brought it down.
The door exploded inward with a crash that echoed through the empty building. So much for stealth.
"If they didn’t know we were here before,” Nikolai muttered, “they sure as fuck do now.”
"Good," Lorenzo said, drawing his sword. "Let them know."
We descended.
The stairs were narrow, forcing us into single file. Jex went first—his massive frame filled the stairwell, making him a living shield. I followed, then Lorenzo, Solis, Nikolai, Henrick, and Rhett taking up the rear.
At the bottom, the stairs opened into a corridor. Doors lined both sides, all closed. Torches burned in sconces, casting flickering shadows. And two figures waited for us.
They stood at attention, weapons drawn, but their eyes were wrong. Glazed. Empty. Moving with the eerie unison of puppets.
"They're compelled," Solis said immediately, his voice tight. "Like Elias. Their minds are broken."
The first guard—a vampire, maybe a century old—raised his sword. "None may pass. Lord Tobias’ orders."
"Lord Tobias is a traitor and a murderer," I said. "Stand aside."
"None may pass." The same flat tone. No recognition. No choice.
They attacked.
Jex met the first one head-on, hammer against sword. The clash of metal rang through the corridor. The second guard came for me, and I had no choice but to fight.
He was skilled—trained, professional—but his movements were predictable. Compulsion made fighters efficient but not creative. I parried, dodged, looked for an opening to disarm rather than kill.
Lorenzo moved in beside me, helping drive the guard back without delivering fatal blows.
"Henrick!" I called out. "Can you break it?"
"Working on it!" Henrick's hands moved in complex patterns, following invisible threads. "The compulsion is strong. Give me time."
Time we didn't have.
The vampire guard pressed harder, and I could see the desperation behind his empty eyes. He didn't want this. Didn't want to fight. But he had no choice.
Lorenzo and I worked in sync—years of training together paying off. He swept the guard's legs while I disarmed him, putting him on the ground.
"Sleep," Henrick commanded, threads snapping into place.
The guard's eyes rolled back. He collapsed, unconscious but alive.
Jex had pinned his opponent against the wall, hammer pressed to his chest. "Any time now, thread-weaver."
"Working on it," Henrick gritted out, threads straining against the compulsion.
"Done." His fingers twisted one final time. "He's free. Barely."
The second guard blinked, confusion replacing the empty stare. "What... where..."
"Run," Solis told him. "Get out of here. Get help."
They scrambled up the stairs, fleeing.
"They'll warn Tobias we're here," Nikolai said.
"He already knows." I could feel it in the bond—Merrit's terror had shifted. Changed. She knew I was close. "Move."
We advanced down the corridor.
The next attack came from multiple directions at once.