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Her heart cracked open, old wounds now raw flesh once again.

Deep down, in the darkest parts of who she was, Emara knew what the Supreme had said about her father was true. It had to be. It explained why her grandmother had been hiding her from him for all of these years. It explained why her mother had died to protect her. And it explained why she was always surrounded by darkness.

“Why don’t you go to the underworld with Emara? You can meet your new father-in-law.” The amusement in the Supreme’s voice sparked even more unimaginable anger inside Emara. She was ready to explode.

A cry escaped her.

When Torin didn’t speak, she wondered if he had worked it out or was just in the process of piecing it all together. Had he worked out that he was promised to a girl with demon blood in her veins? He had lain with a girl who had the very thing in her blood which he despised above all else.

That crack in her heart that had slowly started to heal because of him split open again.

It would be over between them. Demon’s blood ran in her veins. Demon’s blood.

“I don’t give a fuck who Emara’s father is.” Torin’s voice was so low and vicious, it forced Emara to look at him. His striking face raged with brutality, yet his rapid breathing was calming. Emara blinked. She had trained with him and watched him enough in the sparring room to know what he was doing. She had studied him in combat sessions so thoroughly to know that he was readying himself to strike.

“I’m sure if you just asked her”—the Supreme gestured to where Emara lay panting in agony and rage on the ground—“she will tell you herself who he is.”

“Please, stop,” Emara begged again, unashamed to plead, rage building in her heart. “You have taken enough from me. Stop!”

Something snapped inside Torin, she could see it in his eyes. The muscles in his body tensed and he scowled. “No one, and I mean no one, makes her beg.” His jaw angled like a predator as he looked from his brethren to Emara, then to the Supreme. His eyes turned to black ice. “What the fuck is that around her neck?”

“A chain for a badly behaved witch cunt,” Silas spat, and a few of the guards chuckled.

Torin nodded once. “I see.”

He moved like lightning. Leaping into the air in two swift steps, he brought down his swords and ended the life of one of the guards who had laughed. He spun, moving on to the next one, and sliced into the area which housed most of his vital organs.

Two guards fell in perfect synchronisation.

“Are you really going to kill the brothers you took an oath to protect over a witch with demon blood running through her veins?” Deleine seethed.

Torin’s eyes narrowed in on her face. “Thanks to you, they are no longer my brothers.” His face turned to iron. “A traitor is a traitor, no matter what faction they fall under. But I bet you know a thing or two about that.”

She raised an eyebrow, and then she glanced at the guards around the room. She gave Silas a small nod.

Boots hammered into the floor as guards ran to swarm Torin. Flashes of black and grey started moving so fast that Emara’s eyes couldn’t keep up. Steel could be heard clanging through the room, and the guards, some determined and some dying, began shouting.

I still cannot unhear the cries of death.

Three more went down in the blink of an eye.

Torin Blacksteel was a dark wind of sheer violence. He was destruction and fury and unbelievable talent as he swung again, bringing down his sword and cutting clean through a guard’s neck. The man’s head rolled. He pivoted and dropped to his knees, swinging out his foot and taking down another hunter. As he sprung to his feet, he drove his sword down through the man on the floor. As another charged him from behind, Torin threw out his other sword and the guard ran into it, skewering himself. He pulled out his weapon, and blood sprayed.

Heart almost combusting, Emara’s eyes scrunched shut as blood splattered against the limestone. She took a breath and then reopened them, unable to take her eyes from him. Torin was magnified brutality as he assessed who to take down next, but he was outnumbered, even with the eight men that he had just killed. There were still seven left, and six of them were working together to cage him in. Emara noticed the last one had gone to the Supreme and ushered her back.

Silas.

Traitorous bastard.

Emara shook with anger.

They had taken an oath to protect the magic community, not a kidnapping bitch with a personal vendetta against anyone who posed a threat to her magic. Emara had to find a way out of this circle. She could fight. She knew she could. She only had to get out.

Another man’s pained scream screeched through the air, and she knew Torin had taken down another one.

“Are you hurt?” Torin shouted at Emara as he fought, his eyes darting from the battle to her.

“Stay focused,” Emara screamed. She moved, realising that she could now free her hands.