22. Flames
Chapter twenty-two
Flames
Scarlett
The dungeon was alive with tension. Every drop of water that fell from the ceiling sounded like a countdown.
Scarlett’s fingers worked feverishly at the chains, the sliver of a bent pin pressed between her fingertips like a weapon.
Across the hall, Ace watched her, his eyes fixed on the corridor beyond the torchlight.
“Now,” he whispered. “Two guards changing shifts. The one on the left always lags.”
Scarlett nodded once, her breath shallow. The metal pin scraped in the lock—once, twice—then it gave a faint click. The cuff fell away from her wrist, leaving a raw ring of bruised flesh.
Ace tensed, his voice barely audible. “When they pass the cell door, I’ll draw them in. Get ready to run.”
She moved to the bars, pulse racing. “And if we’re caught before—”
“Then you stab the first one who opens that door in the eyes with the pin, and you don’t look back, you don’t come back for me, do you understand?” He said. “Scarlett, we can make it—we can do this.”
She wanted to believe that. She needed to.
The guards approached—the slow echo of boots and the murmur of conversation carrying through the corridor. Scarlett’s hand slipped to the edge of the broken chain, her knuckles white.
But before Ace could say another word, the entire corridor shook.
A deafening boom thundered through the dungeon floor, followed by distant screams and the violent crash of steel. Then another. Metal clanged, something shattered overhead—and the torches flickered wildly as a rush of cold air tore through the hall.
The guards spun, shouting. “Intruders in the west hall!”
Scarlett froze, meeting Ace’s startled eyes. “Please tell me you had something to do with that.”
Ace surged to his feet, chains rattling sharply against the stone. Confusion flashed across his face before something darker settled in. “No. But whoever it is—” He didn’t finish, because the next second, the dungeon door blew open.
The first guard barely had time to raise his weapon before a blade sliced across his throat.
He dropped in a spray of blood, and the second followed with a single strike.
The torches flared in the gust, revealing two figures in the doorway—Maddox, half-wild and streaked with smoke, and Arley behind him, his pale hair matted with ash, red eyes glinting like hot coals.
“Scarlett!” Her breath caught so violently that it hurt; she knew that voice.
Her knees nearly buckled. “Maddox—” his name shattered from her like a prayer.
For one impossible second, her mind refused to understand what she was seeing.
Maddox stood at the end of the corridor, drenched in blood and shadow, chest heaving, his eyes wild with fury and desperation.
Beside him, Arley staggered against the stone wall, pale and bruised, his green magic flickering around his fingertips.
Alive.
Ace’s head snapped toward them, disbelief flashing hard across his face. “You’re—”
“Alive,” Maddox growled, crossing the cell block in long, feral strides.
There was nothing left in this realm that could have stopped him from reaching her.
“No time for shock.” He drove his sword through the lock of Scarlett’s cell, and the iron door burst open with a shriek. “We have to move. Cyrus is on his way.”
The second the opening was wide enough, Scarlett stumbled into his arms. Maddox caught her instantly, wrapping his body around her, her body trembling as she stared up at him.
Tears filled her eyes, and his heart hammered beneath her cheek.
“We thought you—” she let out a sob, “I saw you fall—I saw you—”
“Died?” Arley cut in, moving to Ace’s cell. “Not for lack of trying. We had to take the long way through the rabbit holes.” He smirked faintly, tossing the key ring over his shoulder as Ace’s door flew open. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“You think death could keep me from you?” Maddox's voice cracked beneath the roughness, his forehead pressing hard against hers.
He gripped her hair at the base of her neck, pulling her close to kiss her, savoring a brief moment of relief at being reunited with her.
For the first time since she had known him, she heard it clearly beneath his rage—fear. Raw and unbearable fear.
Behind him, Arley laughed weakly, though his eyes shimmered with tears. “Told him we looked dramatic enough to count as corpses.” His gaze found Scarlett, softening instantly. “Hi, Love.”
Arley crossed the hall, pulling Scarlett from Maddox's embrace before either of them could protest. His arms wrapped around her tightly, almost desperately, as if he needed proof of her in his hands.
Scarlett let out a broken sound as he pressed his face against her shoulder, his breath shaking unevenly against her neck.
“You're here,” he whispered, voice cracking apart.
“Gods, Scarlett….I've missed you so much, Little Rose.” Her fingers tangled into the back of his silver-white hair, tears flowing hot down her cheeks, she held him fiercely.
Up close, she could see the damage hidden beneath his grin—the bruising along his jaw, dried blood at his temple, the exhaustion hidden.
Even his magic flickered unevenly around him.
“You idiot,” she breathed shakily. “I thought you died, don't do that to me again.”
Arley pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands framing her face carefully, as she might break. “I tried very hard not to,” he said with a weak laugh. “Mostly because Maddox threatened to drag me back from the dead himself if we left you alone with Ace.”
Ace huffed as he picked up the discarded keys to undo his chains. “Leaving her with me should have been the least of your worries.”
For a moment, the dungeon disappeared, the chains and bruises—Cyrus. None of it mattered against the crushing relief of having them alive and standing in front of her again. Then Arley’s gaze dropped to the marks around her wrist, and the warmth vanished from his face instantly.
“ —He touched you,” he said softly. The air in the corridor changed. Maddox went still behind her in a way that felt genuinely dangerous. Ace’s expression darkened at the reminder of what Cyrus had put her through.
Scarlett swallowed hard, not willing to talk about what she’d suffered at the hands of Cyrus. “We need to go. Now!”
The floor above trembled again—shouting, running, the sharp alarm bells echoing down through the walls. The sound jostled them from the moment.
Ace caught Scarlett’s arm, his voice urgent. “The escape route’s already at risk of being a trap. If we move now, we can still make the catacombs.”
Maddox shook his head, scanning the stairwell. “No time. He’s heading here. We’ll be cornered before we make it out.”
Scarlett looked between them, chest heaving. “Then, what do we do?”
“Fight our way out,” Maddox said. “Like we always have.”
And as if summoned by Maddox’s words, the dungeon doors at the far end burst open again—this time with Cyrus at the threshold, a retinue of Spade guards fanning behind him. His eyes landed on Maddox, and for the first time, his composure cracked.
“You,” he hissed.
Maddox stepped forward, sword glinting in the half-light. “Me.”
Cyrus’ gaze flicked between Ace, Scarlett, and Maddox. “So the rats find their way back to the pit.” His smile was a razor’s edge. “Perfect. I was growing bored waiting for the wedding anyway.” More guards flowed into the room behind Cyrus.
The tension in the room snapped like a drawn bow.
Arley’s hand brushed the hilt of his blade. “We’ll make it quick.” Arley lowered his voice, “Scarlett, go now, get out of here and don't turn back.”
But Cyrus laughed, lifting his sword. “You won’t make it at all.”
Then the dungeon erupted into chaos as the soldiers surged forward.
Swords clashed, magic flared and fizzled beneath The Null Veil’s hum.
Scarlett darted for the stairs, ducking behind the stone pillars, as Ace and Maddox met the guards head-on, their movements brutal and fluid, mirrored like two halves of the same storm.
Watching Cyrus as they fought through the guards to get to him.
Every strike was personal, every word unspoken. Scarlett turned back once—just long enough to see Cyrus’ blade graze Ace’s shoulder, and Maddox drove him backward with a roar that shook the stone walls.
It was madness—timing gone awry, plans burning; but somehow, fate had aligned. Because even though the escape had failed, they weren’t running anymore. They were taking back everything. Steel screamed against steel. Scarlett turned back toward the fight, her power flickering at her fingertips.
The dungeon had become a storm—shadows, firelight, and blood. Cyrus moved with a predator’s grace, his sword a flash of dark silver as it struck sparks off Maddox’s blade. Every blow landed heavy, echoing through the stone corridors.
Scarlett stayed close, ducking as Arley deflected a strike meant for her, his red eyes gleaming with battlelight. Ace fought beside Maddox, their rhythm unspoken but brutal, a perfect balance of fury and precision.
“Stay behind me!” Arley barked, twisting to parry a blow that would have split Scarlett’s spine.
“I’m not hiding,” she snapped, slamming a fallen guard’s dagger into another man’s ribs. “Not again.”
Cyrus laughed—a low, venomous sound that echoed in the torchlight. “Look at you,” he sneered, eyes wild. “The heart’s whore, the bastard knight, the rabbit, and my traitor son—what a pathetic rebellion.”
Ace lunged, fury twisting his face. “You’re no father of mine.”
Cyrus blocked the strike, their blades locking. “A prince who can’t control his queen. You were never fit to rule, boy. You don’t even control the blood that runs in your veins.”
Maddox slashed across Cyrus’ side, forcing him back. “He doesn’t need your poison.”
“Oh, but you do,” Cyrus hissed, catching Maddox’s sword and shoving him back hard. “You’ve been swallowing it your whole life.”
Arley moved in fast, twin knives flashing. “Enough talk—”