Chapter 4
Marcus
She tries to push away from me, but it seems like her legs won’t cooperate. Her whole body trembles, and I’m pretty sure she’s facing the reality of how close she just came to death. And yet her jaw juts out. Of course it does.
Damn fool.
“I- I had it under con-control,” she stutters, her voice choked. I look down at where she’s clutching my shirt, and she loosens her grip as if she’s been burned.
“Clearly.” I don’t bother keeping the sarcasm from my voice. “Well, nothing says ‘great plan’ like voluntarily stepping into a room designed for witch compaction.”
She pulls away from me, scowling. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Because contrary to what you might think, I’m not actually an idiot.” Irritation flares. Tracking her had been easy. Dealing with her stupidity is another matter entirely. “And neither are you, which makes this little solo mission of yours even more infuriating.”
“Well, pardon me for ruining your day,” she huffs, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin. “I’m sure you would rather have left me there to die.”
“Actually, I wouldn’t. Although I imagine you’d quite happily go back in there and face a gruesome death than be saved by me.” I resist the urge to shake her.
Fucking intolerable.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snaps. “Why would anyone want to die like that?”
“Precisely. So how about thanking me?” I fold my arms over my chest.
She glowers at me for a moment. “Fine. Thank you,” she mutters.
I watch her for a moment. “Good enough.” I glance around. “Anyway, as much as I’d love to stand around for more of your particular brand of charm, we need to get out of here.”
As if to prove my point, the sound of a door slamming has us both spinning to face the sound.
“Shit.” I reach for her arm and take a step in the opposite direction. She yanks against me, which doesn’t surprise me. I tighten my grip and start moving, but another loud thump comes from up ahead.
Goddammit.
I stop and look around us.
“What the hell?” Her brow furrows.
Footsteps echo down both corridors, closing in fast. My eyes dart between the approaching threats, counting heartbeats, assessing movements.
“Five from the east wing, eight from the west,” I say, keeping my voice low. “And they’re not being subtle about it.”
“Thanks for the headcount. Now what?” Kara’s hands spark defensively.
I scan our surroundings – ornate wallpaper, hardwood floors, a massive painting of some long-dead noble. “The floor above has a shadow point that we can use to get out of here. I can get us there, but the wards will tear us apart unless we can punch through them.”
“And let me guess – you need me for that?” She eyes me warily.
“Look, I know you’d rather kiss a troll, but yes. Your power, combined with my knowledge of the shadow points, is our best shot.” The footsteps grow louder. “Your choice – trust me for thirty seconds or explain yourself to Lucien’s welcoming committee.”
She lets out a frustrated breath. “Fine. What do we do?”
I step behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away. “Channel your magic through me. I’ll guide it to the weak point in their wards.”
Her power floods through me, raw and electric. My skin tingles where we touch. I direct her magic upward, weaving it through the mansion’s defenses until I find the flaw I’m looking for. The wards shatter with a sound like breaking glass.
I feel her sharp intake of breath, her back pressing against my chest. For a moment, time seems to stop – there’s just her warmth against me, her magic mingling with mine, creating something unexpected and powerful.
Then reality crashes back as voices shout from both directions. “Now!” I tighten my grip around her waist and pull us both into the shadows.
I materialize with Kara in the darkness of the estate grounds. The mansion behind us blazes with light and activity, figures rushing past windows as Lucien’s men search.
“Well, that was fun.” Kara steps away from me, smoothing her clothes. “Though I could have done without the dramatic rescue.”
“You mean the rescue that kept you from being crushed to death?” I scan the grounds, tracking movement patterns. “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”
She crosses her arms. “I already said thank you. Once was enough. What more do you want? Me to lick your boots?”
Charming.
“And here I thought near-death experiences made people more gracious.” I keep my voice low. “Running in alone was reckless. You could have—”
“I know, I know.” She waves off my lecture. “But we don’t have time for the ‘you were stupid’ speech right now.”
She’s right about that much. I watch another group of guards sweep past with flashlights.
Something is bothering me. “This whole setup feels wrong. That trap was meant to kill, but it was also meant to be found.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lucien’s too smart for this. He wanted someone to attempt a rescue.” I turn to face her. “Think about it – if we go to Arabella claiming he’s behind the abductions, he can point to tonight as evidence that we’re jumping at shadows. Making rash accusations that drive us to break into his property.”
Kara’s eyes narrow as she processes this. “So the whole thing was theater? To make us look unstable and unreliable?”
“Exactly. And we played right into it.”
She narrows her eyes on me. “Or this is just your way of telling me how stupid I am again.”
“For fuck’s sake, Kara. We’ve already decided there’s no time for that now.”
The sound of voices drifts from around the corner of the mansion. I grab Kara’s arm and pull her behind a large oak tree before she can protest. She opens her mouth, probably to berate me again, but I press a finger to her lips. They’re soft. Plump. And for a moment, I’m distracted.
“The witch fell for it, just like he said she would.” A deep voice carries through the darkness. “Though that vampire showing up wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Doesn’t matter,” another voice replies. “Lord Marlowe said someone would try to play hero. Said that trap would make them look desperate and reckless when we bring this to the Council.”
“What about the other surprises he set up?”
“All in place. Every property’s got something special waiting. By the time they’re done stumbling into his traps, no one will take their accusations seriously.”
The voices fade as the men move away. I look down at Kara, whose face has gone pale in the moonlight.
She pulls away from me, running a hand through her hair. “Shit.” Her voice comes out hoarsely. “You were right. This whole thing was staged.”
“I know.” I keep my voice gentle, resisting the urge to say “I told you so.”
“And I walked right into it like an idiot.” She presses her palms against her eyes. “If you hadn’t shown up…”
“But I did.” I touch her shoulder lightly. “And now we know what he’s planning. That’s worth something.”
She drops her hands and looks at me, her usual defiance dimmed by understanding. “He’s got more traps set up. He’s trying to make us look irrational.”
“Yes. Which means we need to be smarter about this. No more solo missions.”
Her shoulders slump as she exhales deeply. “You’re right. I was an idiot.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s honorable to want to protect the ones you love. Everyone should have a code of honor.”
She looks at me sharply, as if trying to find a hint of irony. She won’t find any. I believe what I said. The sound of approaching footsteps makes me tense. “We need to move.”
“But Gran…” She pinches her lips together.
“Isn’t here, Kara. But we’ll find her. I swear it.” I lock eyes with her. She gives a small nod. “Let’s go,” I say. I anticipate resistance, but there is none for a change. She simply nods again, then stands silently as I slide my arm around her shoulder and guide us into the shadows.
I materialize with Kara in the garden of her family home, my arm still around her. She’s quiet – too quiet. It’s unnerving after her usual fire and resistance.
The silence stretches as she steps away from me. Her face is drawn, shoulders tense. She looks…defeated. It doesn’t sit right.
This isn’t her.
I’ve seen Kara Blackwood in action enough times to know that this passive acceptance won’t last. She’s a fighter – stubborn, fierce, infuriating.
The kind of witch who’d rather chew off her own arm than admit defeat.
And yet here she stands, subdued after nearly getting crushed to death in Lucien’s trap.
My instincts scream that this is just the calm before the storm. She’s processing, regrouping. Soon enough, that legendary Blackwood temper will flare back to life, and she’ll be charging headlong into another rescue attempt.
How long before she tries to slip away again?
The thought sends an unexpected surge of protectiveness through me. I’ve seen what Lucien’s capable of. If she goes off half-cocked again…
“I can hear you thinking from here,” she mutters, not turning around. There’s an edge creeping back into her voice.
And there it is – the first spark rekindling.
I move as if to put a hand on her shoulder, my hand hovering close enough to feel the warmth of her skin.
“Kara, I just—” I begin, almost tempted to tell her that I don’t like the idea of her being in danger, that it makes something twist in my chest. But I don’t say it because lights flare brightly from the house in front of us, and suddenly, there are voices.
“Kara! Oh, thank the goddess!” It’s Georgia Blackwood, flying toward us. The others follow closely. And if there’d been anything I’d wanted to tell her, it remains unsaid.
The moment is gone.