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A pulse of savage protectiveness flares in me. If they find us, it means confrontation—especially if they see me with Elyria, let alone the chain indicating she’snota typical captive. “Running might be an option if we can slip out unseen,” I mutter. “But we can’t outrun gargoyles in open terrain, and the dark elves might have archers. We’ll have to be clever, or—” My voice falters.Or I fight.The old executioner within me stirs, half-terrified, half-thrilling at the idea.

Her eyes spark with determination. “I won’t let them take me.”

“Then we stand ready,” I say, forcing a calm I don’t feel. “We might find a vantage to observe them first. If it’s only a few, we can slip away or pick them off. If more come, we retreat deeper into the fortress.”

She nods, swallowing. “I trust you.”

The quiet admission tugs at something deep inside me.I can’t fail her now.“Stay close,” I murmur, gripping her hand briefly. Then I hurry to douse our feeble fire, scattering the coals. The chain rattles as we creep into a corridor that might lead to higher ground—perhaps we can peer out from a broken tower or parapet. We move fast but silently, my wings pulled in tight to avoid brushing the walls.

The corridor spirals upward, leading to what might have been a second-floor walkway. Much of it is collapsed, open to the sky. Squeezing through a half-blocked arch, we emerge ontoa partial rampart ringed by rubble. The vantage overlooks the fortress courtyard—cracked flagstones, broken columns, and a wide breach in the far wall. And there, stepping over the debris, are figures that seize my heart in dread.

Three dark elves in black leather, crossbows slung across their backs, pick their way cautiously. Their expressions are alert, scanning each shadow. Close behind them, to my horror, marches a gargoyle. A real gargoyle, wings folded, skin a dark slate color. He’s big, though not quite as tall as me, and he moves with the lethal grace of a trained hunter. My mind reels, recognizing insignias on his bracers.He’s from my clan.Possibly a scout or mid-level executioner, dispatched to find me or any sign of my defection.

Elyria stiffens behind me, nearly pressing herself into my back. Her breath shudders. I sense her fear—the dark elves alone are bad enough, but a gargoyle from my own clan is an even bigger threat. The fact that they’re working together is worse.What unholy alliance is this?Possibly the dark elves have offered intelligence, or a temporary truce, if it means capturing the fugitive gargoyle and the rumored High Purna.

They speak in low voices, though I can’t catch every word from our vantage. The gargoyle’s tone is guttural, the dark elves hiss in their harsh tongue. Then they spread out, fanning across the courtyard. One elf tests a side passage that might lead to the interior. Another paces near the collapsed gatehouse. Meanwhile, the gargoyle stands in the center, scanning the half-fallen towers with keen eyes.

I pull Elyria down behind a portion of the parapet, heart hammering. “We can’t let them corner us,” I whisper. “That gargoyle might catch my scent if he gets too close. He’ll sense you too.”

She nods, hands shaking slightly around the chain. “We need a plan.”

A swirl of old instincts floods me:Identify the biggest threat, neutralize swiftly.As an executioner, I know these tactics. I steel myself. “If they spread out, we might pick them off in smaller numbers. But if the gargoyle uses any psionic or elemental magic, we could be trapped.”

She pales, nodding. “I’ll follow your lead.”

I press a clawed hand over hers, a silent vow. Then I peer over the parapet again. The group has split up. Two elves vanish into a corridor below, likely searching rooms. The third elf stands near the gargoyle, scanning. My breath catches as the gargoyle moves, turning slowly in a circle. His wings flicker. He’s definitely a scout—body language says he’s sniffing the air.He suspects we’re here.

We can’t let them pinpoint us. We need an ambush or a diversion. My mind whirs. “We’ll descend another staircase, try to isolate one or two. I can handle them if we catch them off guard.”

Elyria nods firmly, though her eyes betray swirling fear. I guide her along the rampart, ducking under broken arches, aiming for a far stairwell that likely leads down to the fortress’s eastern wing. Our steps echo softly in the old stone. The chain is a liability, but she keeps it pressed to her chest to minimize noise.

We descend quickly, emerging in a long hall with collapsed columns. Dust motes swirl in the faint light. My wings brush a precarious beam overhead, sending a trickle of rubble down. We freeze, hearts pounding. A voice drifts from the far end—a dark elf cursing in their guttural tongue.

I motion for Elyria to hide behind a chunk of fallen masonry. My pulse roars in my ears. The footsteps approach.One elf? Possibly.I let out a careful breath. If it’s just one, I can strike fast. Danger thrums in me, but also a savage clarity.No turning back.

A slender figure emerges around the corner: a dark elf male, crossbow gripped in one hand, steps cautious. He hasn’t seen us yet. I lock eyes with Elyria, silently telling her to stay put, then slip into the corridor’s shadows. Every muscle is taut, each sense honed.I am executioner no longer—but I’ll kill to protect her.

The elf steps closer. His face is etched with tension, scanning the gloom. Just as he passes my hiding spot, I lunge. My claws slice across his throat before he can yelp. Blood sprays, coating my hand. He collapses with a ragged gurgle. My heart hammers, teeth bared. Old instincts swirl with revulsion.He was the enemy. I had no choice.

Elyria emerges, eyes wide at the sight of the corpse. She swallows hard, but doesn’t balk. “Are there more?”

I nod grimly. “Two elves and one gargoyle remain.” We can’t linger. Blood spreads across the floor, the stench thick. Another voice echoes from deeper in the ruin, cursing.They heard something.

I seize Elyria’s hand, pulling her along. We hurry around a corner, seeking a vantage that might let us see the courtyard again. Each step is a calculated risk. Tension coils in my gut. If the gargoyle or the other elves discover the body, they’ll know we’re here for sure.No more stealth.My mind flicks to my vow: If forced, I’ll fight them all.

At the next intersection, we skid to a halt behind a fractured wall that overlooks an open area—a portion of the courtyard with a collapsed roof. The gargoyle stands there, scanning, wings half-spread. A dark elf stands to his left. The other elf is nowhere in sight. Possibly searching the southwestern corner. My chest tightens. If we can isolate the gargoyle from the elf, I might stand a chance in single combat. But if I have to face them both at once, it’s riskier.

As we watch, the gargoyle frowns, looking down at the ground, perhaps he’s found footprints or a smear of blood fromthe first elf. He growls something. The elf nods, raising his crossbow. They move with coordinated caution, stepping into the corridor we just left.They’re heading for the body.My heart leaps.We’re pinned if they come this way.

Elyria tugs my arm, pointing silently toward a battered staircase that might lead back up or around. We nod at each other, adrenaline spiking. We slip that direction, trying to circle behind them. The chain rattles once, making me wince. If the gargoyle hears that, we’re done for. My wings brush the air in an effort to keep silent. Another corridor leads around the courtyard’s perimeter, a route that might let us flank them.

We move swiftly, the fortress’s labyrinthine passages half-collapsed, forcing us to climb over debris. My heart pounds at the knowledge that we’re actively hunting now—I’mhunting them. Elyria’s breathing grows ragged, but she stays close, silent and determined. A fierce admiration sparks in me for her courage.

Rounding a final corner, we spot them, the gargoyle and the elf, bent over the corpse of their comrade. The elf curses in dismay, the gargoyle stands rigid, eyes blazing. I can almost smell the fury roiling off him. He barks an order at the elf, likely telling him to search the perimeter. The elf sets off, crossbow at the ready.

The gargoyle remains behind, crouched over the body. My chest tightens.Now or never.If we let them regroup or call the third elf, we’ll be outnumbered. I turn to Elyria, pressing a finger to my lips. She nods, stepping back into a shadow. I swallow, summoning the lethal calm that once defined me.

One more kill.But this time, it’s not for the clan or the Alpha. It’s to protect the woman who upended my world.