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“I don’t know,” he mutters.

My fists clench as rage and helplessness war inside me. “This is why we need military weapons on hand. We should have been ready for this.”

Hunter scowls, eyes fixed on the sky. “So you can shoot Ava out of the sky?”

The words punch through me. My chest heaves with violence.

The helicopter pulls higher into the clouds, shrinking into a dot against the gray sky.

She’s gone.

Hunter exhales. “There’s nothing we can do now but plan.”

I nod. “They won’t kill her.”

The words ought to be reassuring.

They’re not.

“No,” Hunter says. “But you know what they’re planning.”

Yes. I do.

Because Gabriel is stupid enough to believe the virgin bedding ritual is magical. That whoever has sex with the anointed virgin will become prior.

If we don’t get to Ava soon, Kane will rape her.

43

Ava

The heat of a fire warming my skin. A dull ache behind my eyes.

When I manage to open them, the room sways. A large fireplace crackles to my left. I’m lying on a couch, my body heavy. My pulse begins to race as memories flood back—Damian, the ceremony, Coraline and the garden…

Then nothing.

A sharp voice cuts through the fog. “She’s awake.”

Gabriel Wolfe stands beside the fireplace. His smile is tight. “Good. It’s time to begin.”

My heart leaps to my throat as I spot Kane seated in a leather armchair, his posture rigid, hands folded too carefully in his lap. His eyes are shadowed, and there are dark circles beneath them. Not manic. Not wild. Just still.

Too still.

In the corner, the Sacred Light stands unmoving. A man beside him holds a gun to his head.

Gabriel takes a step forward. “My son will take Damian’s place. Your bedding will be here tonight. In this room.”

I jerk upright, nausea lurching through me as the drugs yank at my balance.

“Calm yourself,” Gabriel snaps. “You’ll be dead no matter what. If you cooperate, it won’t be painful.”

The Sacred Light’s voice vibrates across the room, low and mechanical. “Ava. Be calm.”

His voice—distorted and deep—sinks into me like warmth. It makes no sense, but I trust him.

“You’re lucky I honor our traditions,” Gabriel mutters to the Sacred Light. “Unlike you. But if you speak again, I’ll unmask you.”