Chapter 28 #2
Her body hit the floor with a sickening thud, and without a backward glance, I stepped over it, the dagger clutched tighter in my hand.
My pulse hammered against my ribs, limbs trembling as raw magic leaked from me in ragged waves.
I shoved the exhaustion to the side, letting nothing—not fatigue, not pain—touch me.
There was no time. They needed me.
“You’re draining yourself.” Xarothar's voice growled in my mind, annoyed. The usual tone he took when I was being—well, me.
I leaned against the bannister for half a second, forcing a breath past the fire in my lungs. “Yeah, I noticed. Thanks for the update, Captain Obvious.”
“You need to stop.”
I know.
“Relax. I’m fine.”
I wasn’t, but whatever.
“You sound like a dying animal. Fine is not the word I would use.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not exactly a ray of encouragement, you know that?”
“I’m not here to encourage. I’m here to keep you from getting yourself killed doing something idiotic. Like this.”
I swept my gaze across the room and over the bannister, up and down, but there was no time to linger.
“You should be able to sense the chatty one.”
I stiffened, glancing over my shoulder as the distant sound of shouting reached my ears. More were coming.
“How?”
Xarothar sighed, exasperated. “You have a connection since being intimate. Use it.”
I frowned at that, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck.
“That’s how it works?”
“Focus.”
A heavy thud echoed from somewhere below—steel slamming, footsteps pounding in a rush. Close. Too close.
I bit the inside of my cheek and shut my eyes, forcing my breath to even out despite the chaos suffocating my lungs. I pushed past the burning, the static buzzing under my skin, and reached inward, searching for the thread Xarothar insisted was there.
It was faint. Distant. But real. Like a whisper taut through a storm.
“Lower levels,” Xarothar said in my head, clipped and cold. “Move before you collapse.”
My legs were already moving. I pushed off the railing and flew down the stairs, the burn in my muscles ripping through me—but I welcomed it. It was nothing compared to the chaos screaming inside me.
More enemies closed in from every direction, but I didn’t slow. I had one goal. I was going to get them out, and anyone who tried to stop me would be dead before they even got the chance.
The connection between us wasn’t complete, but it was enough to burn like a brand in my chest and scream with every step I took.
I summoned my magic again, willing the earth to bend to me. The corridor trembled beneath my feet, cracks racing up the walls as stone groaned and shifted. A barrier surged up behind me, strong enough to hold. Just long enough to buy me time. Just long enough to find them.
A metal door loomed at the bottom of the final flight of stairs. Every step felt like wading through quicksand. A raw cough tore through me, and I stumbled.
I will not be dying today.
I reached the bottom and planted my hands on the doorframe, bracing myself as the hallway darkened. The edges of my vision fluttered, but I forced it steady, swallowing the nausea climbing up my throat.
Through the narrow glass pane, I saw them—Kieran and Ronan.
My world stopped at the sight.
Kieran hung in the iron chains, slumped and broken. His blood-matted hair clung to his face, and every glimpse of skin I could see was bruised.
But it was Ronan who made my breath hitch.
He was lying on his side, completely still.
Crimson pooled beneath him, and I couldn’t believe that was all his.
His breathing—if you could even call it that—was shallow.
Fragile. A cold rage surged through me. My magic writhed beneath my skin, desperate to break free for hurting someone I care about.
I reach for the door handle, needing to get to them, but it's locked.
Fuck this.
I clenched my fingers around the cold metal, feeding it shards of frost from my power. Ice snaked along the edges, creeping into the lock like ivy suffocating a wall. With a brittle crack, the lock surrendered. The handle snapped off in my palm, and I swung the door open.
I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t look for traps, threats—anything. I didn’t care. I went straight for Kieran, my hands cupping his face, lifting his head.
His skin was cold and pale.
Please be okay.
His eyelids fluttered open, and finally, his stormy grey eyes met mine. Then, despite everything, the grump actually smirked.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped.
I swallowed hard. “Well, I am.”
My eyes moved over him—bruises, cuts, dried blood. My stomach flipped.
“What did she do to you?”
He gave a rough breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle, temptress.”
I didn’t believe that for a second.
I ground my jaw and leaned close, letting my forehead brush his for the briefest second. Then I let the magic free. The chains around him groaned as ice crept along the metal, cracking and weakening it.
But then I looked past him.
Ronan still hadn’t moved.
A jolt of panic burst through me, and I didn't care how much power I had left—I was getting them out.
“Xarothar, tell me he’s alive.”
“Barely. You need to move. Now.”
I turned back to Kieran. “I’m getting you both out of here.”
He gave me a low, dry chuckle—hoarse and ragged. “Knew there was a reason I tolerated you.”
My throat tightened. “Yeah? Try not to bleed out before I prove you right.”
The chains groaned under pressure. I braced myself, ready to tear them all apart, ready to destroy whatever dared stand between me and the people I loved. No one was taking them from me.
With a snap, the chains finally gave way. Kieran fell forward, and I just caught him, our bodies falling to the floor. My knees slammed against the cold, blood-slicked stone, every impact biting, but I didn't let go.
“Can you sit up?” I shift just enough to brace him, my fingers digging deep into his arms. The blood smeared across me—his, mine, I couldn't tell anymore.
Kieran groaned softly, then nodded shakily. He rolled onto his side with a sharp inhale, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Get Ronan. She was extra hard on him.”
His words hit like a punch to the chest, but I didn’t let it break me.
I pause just long enough to steady Kieran, then push my body forward, dragging myself across the floor toward Ronan.
My knees sink into his blood as I reach him, hands trembling with tension.
Slowly, carefully, I roll him onto his back, and I freeze.
A breath hitched violently in my throat, and a sob escaped.
Ronan’s beautiful face—usually so full of life and mischief—was nearly unrecognisable.
Bruises darkened his cheekbones and jaw, swelling like bruised petals over torn, bloodied skin.
Dried streaks crusted around his nose and chin, mixed with fresh, glistening crimson that still oozed.
His lashes were matted and heavy, his eyes nearly swollen shut, and his lower lip split in two.
Blood traced down his neck, a silent testament to the violence he’d survived, and my chest clenched tight, every inch of me aching for him.
So much blood.
There were prints on his throat. Finger-shaped bruises. Scratches. One of his arms was bent at a strange angle, his knuckles raw and broken. He’d thought back.
My hands shook as I carefully swept the blood and grime from his face. A ragged breath tore from my chest—part sob, part curse—rattling in my throat.
Please be alive.
I press my fingers gently to his neck, searching for a pulse, silently pleading it's there. One.. two.. Three.. And then—a faint, stubborn thump beneath my touch.
Oh, thank the stars.
Relief crashed through me, and hot tears streaked my face as I sucked in a ragged gasp, shaking as I traced his battered skin, clinging to the proof he was still alive. Still with me.
“Is he okay?” Kieran’s voice cut through the haze of my worry.
I looked over at him. His face pale, jaw tight with pain, but his eyes locked onto mine with that same guarded intensity he always wore. Only now, there was something else under it. Fear.
“No,” I said quietly, voice cracking despite myself. “But he’s alive.”
Vespera will pay for this.
“I’m getting you out of here,” I whisper, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
Xarothar's presence ghosted through my mind—a single, sharp warning. I pushed it down. Ronan needed me. If I had to tear this place apart brick by brick, I would. I’d torch every past piece until all that remained was ash before I let him die on this floor.
Boots thundered down the stairwell.
They took their fucking time.
My hands flew up without thinking. A gust of wind burst from my core, slamming the metal door shut with a deafening clang.
Shouts rose from the other side, but I didn’t wait—I swept my arm through the air, and ice roared in my wake, racing toward the frame.
It devoured the hinges and locked once again, sealing it in a solid sheath of magic-slicked ice.
Unbreakable.
My breath hitched; the world swayed—but I couldn’t stop. I turned and crawled back to Kieran, my limbs trembling like they might give out.
He was watching me. Even through the exhaustion dragging at him, Kieran’s stormy gaze was clear. He pushed himself upright with a quiet grunt, swaying as he moved, and when I reached him, he placed a cold hand over mine.
“He didn’t break,” he groaned, voice wrecked from whatever hell they’d put him through. “Neither of us did.”
His words cut deeper than expected, and more tears slid down my cheeks. They suffered because of me. Because they'd dared to protect me. I let them in. Let them get too close.
This is why I never let anyone in.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to vanish. Instead, I swallowed the sob threatening to rip out of me and shoved the guilt back where it belonged—for now. Kieran was still upright, Ronan still breathing. This wasn’t the moment to fall apart.
I lifted my head, my power flickering inside me like dying embers. The ice on the door creaked ominously. It wouldn’t hold forever.
“You look like hell,” Kieran grumped.
I let out a weak, bitter laugh. “Thanks.” I squeezed his hand tighter, resting my forehead against his, drinking in the warmth it gave me from being close to him.
I could feel the price of my magic coursing through me, gnawing at my veins, clawing at my soul. It was draining me.
“The more I use it… the more it kills me,” I whispered, finally admitting it to someone.
His grip tightened on my fingers, steady and fierce. I felt the quick pulse beneath my touch. “You’re lying,”
Worry seeped into every word. I leaned back, pressing my hand against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. He was burning up, and I couldn’t shake the tight twist in my chest. My lips parted, and my body trembled with a helpless, aching need to protect him from it all.
“I’m not… but it’s okay.” I lie, even to myself.
His eyes snapped to mine, looking pissed that I would lie to him. “It’s not fucking okay.” I couldn’t hold his gaze as he snapped at me.
Because he was right. Nothing about this is okay.
A thunderous bang shook the door before I could even react, rattling the entire room. My heart jumped—they were coming.
“It’s time.” I breathed.
“We are getting out of here,” he said, his confidence practically radiating—and God, I could use some of that right about now.
I nodded, letting my resolve harden, but beneath it all, the bitter truth sank in.
We’ll get out… just not with me. I forced myself upright on trembling legs, ignoring Kieran's piercing stare.
Each step was a battle, every breath a knife in my lungs.
Still, the fire in my gut wouldn't die, even if my body screamed to give in.
This was it. I was finally taking back what was mine.