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My hand shakily grazes down Cole’s side to confirm. An axe is lodged into his armor. When I pull my hand back to hold his face, to force him to look at me, I smear his cheek with fresh blood. My hand layered in thick crimson.

The gravity of the situation steals every pulse of my heart, every breath in my body.

He.

Can’t.

Die.

“Cole. Cole! Look at me. Cole, look at me!” I cry.

He drags his warm honey eyes to mine, his head tipping up and down in a slow nod. A visible tremor shakes up and down his arms. “I’m okay,” he wheezes.

Getting up off my back, I pull him into my arms, cradling him. With trembling hands, I gently assess where the axe is. The vile blade is jammed deep into his armor where his ribs are. My panic overflows when I realize how much blood there is. I can’t even tell where it’s all coming from. My hands soaked in the warmth of it.

Tears spill from my eyes, my voice a cracked whisper, “Remember that night you didn’t want me to leave your room? How you made me promise not to leave you? I need you to promisemenow, Cole. Promise me you won’t leave.”

He still struggles to pull in a breath, his eyes fluttering as he braces a hand on the axe’s handle. But a smile cracks his lips, and he laughs.

Of all fucking things, he laughs. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Kat.”

“Just fucking promise me!”

He looks up at me and nods. “I promise.”

His face contorts as he tries to remove the axe.

“Stop it!” I cry and snatch his wrist.

“This breastplate is from the King…” he wheezes. “It’s stronger than normal armor.”

My words tremble in hysteria. “Oh, fuck the King!”

But he rips the axe free from his armor and tosses it to the side, leaving a deep, angry gash tearing through the metal.

“You fucking idiot!” I rip my cloak off and shove as much of it as I can into his wound to slow the bleeding. Forcing all my strength through my compressions to slow the flow of blood, I beg every god and deity to save him. Willing him to live. My gaze catches on the two rings around my fingers. The dark ring tattooing my finger from when I met Daeja and the metal of Cole’s mother’s ring.

“I’m still here.”Daeja’s voice caresses my mind, calming my terror.

Cole finally catches his breath and starts to sit up. His hand grips my shoulder, forcing me to listen to him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not my blood, Kat. I don’t know whose it is, but it’s not mine. I’m o-kay!”

The horror eases enough for me to survey around us at the chaos of the battle. As if in slow motion, I recognize everyone around me. Melaina. Gavin. Nolan. Archie. Darian.

Darian takes on three men, and at his back is Carlisle who fights two others. I stiffen as one of the rebels strikes Carlisle. In one moment, Carlisle’s fighting back, and the other he slumps to the ground.

Dead.

Now there’s five on Darian—and my heart stutters at the impending danger. Archie and Melaina roar to his defense, swinging swords and screaming.

I tear my gaze away to Cole and snatch his arm, demanding he listen to me. “You have to tell the squad to fall back. We are outnumbered, and they’ll trap you against the river.”

Cole hesitates.

“Trust me!” I scream over the fight.

Cole relents and yells out across the battle, “Fall back! Fall back! Fall back! ”

Everyone pauses, confused, but then they turn and run north toward the river. I turn my attention toward Daeja, the pull of our bond directing my gaze toward her shadowy silhouette hidden near the tree line.