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“Sloan!” I started for him, but Sloan’s expression darkened.

“Go,” he demanded angrily. “Leave me, V.”

It was the first time I’d ever seen the Brit angry. It wasn’t anger he aimed at me, though. It was an anger he felt primarily towards himself. His entire expression spoke of a deep, powerful self-loathing, and it hurt to see it. Sloan wasn’t the only person to blame for our escape going awry, and I’d make damn sure he knew it if we survived this.

My companion was trapped inside the magic’s light, his shoulder pouring blood down his front. And still, Sloan didn’t flinch. He merely pled for me to flee with his gaze. But I wouldn’t. Whatever idea of me he had in his head, I wasn’t the type to leave someone behind. If I ever became that person, I wouldn’t be me anymore. So I never would. I’d never leave a man behind. I’d never call it quits on a friend. I’d never choose myself when I could choose us both.

Instead of fleeing, I dodged another symbol of light and targeted the sensation Eros gave off, because the Fae disappeared right after he attacked me with his magic.

Like a coward.

But Eros wasn’t gone, not really. He cloaked himself with an invisibility spell, which I imagine was the act before he made his final assault. Too bad for this dude I saw right through his invisibility and located him without much effort at all.

Recovering my crossbow, I shot another arrow directly at the Dark Fae and threw out a kick, catching the concealed man by surprise. The Dark Fae materialized in front of me. His real face was on full display after I sliced through the fabric of his hood with one of my daggers. A face marred with symbols and barely healed flesh.

It wasn’t what I expected.

I could see the remnants of a great beauty masked by swells of scarring and dark ink branding most parts of his skin. But by the number of runes he sported, he hadn’t been attractive in a very long time. His corrupt features were both terrifying and mesmerizing to look at.

And when he spoke, the deep husk of his voice was darkness incarnate. “What are you?”

What a rude question to ask a lady.

I wouldn’t be distracted by conversation, though. I neither cared what Eros had to say nor wanted to hear it.

I tried to move for the Dark Fae bastard again, but I couldn’t. I was bound by the same thing that had first done me in—the binding symbol.

Shit, shit, shit.

Okay, so he successfully distracted me. The asshole was good, I’d give him that. He probably didn’t have any more serum. Maybe? Oh God, I hoped not.

Sloan’s angry voice echoed behind me. “You bloody bastard, let her go.”

Eros chuckled low in his throat. “You’ve really said it, haven’t you? The line out of every hero’s mouth. What a classic gent you are.”

My thoughts were going a mile a minute, but one thing was clear.

Escape.

I quickly set out to break the binding, doing what Phillip instructed last time. I was quicker than the two men combined, so it was already loosening the magic’s hold while Sloan distracted Eros with outbursts. I wanted to look back to see if Sloan was okay after Eros strolled over to him, blade in one hand, and all I could hear was the sound of flesh cutting. Sloan didn’t make a sound, but because of the kind of sadistic asshole Eros was, it was probably the worst kind of pain anyone could commit with a blade.

Maybe Eros hadn’t killed Sloan because he planned to torture him? The very idea of it was like a hand around my throat, squeezing, and I couldn’t fathom a worse fate if I didn’t get the fuck out of this magical hold.

Whatever Eros did in the seconds following, it finally got Sloan to vocalize his pain, and I worked harder than ever to free myself. Then the Dark Fae was in front of me, hand around my throat, violent eyes slithering over my face with interest, and the magical hold around my body quickly reinforced.

“Something tells me you’ll do whatever I say if I promise to leave this one alive, hmm?”

“Don’t,” Sloan started, but something stopped him from saying anything else and his low, painful whines were stabs to my already suffering heart.

“Sloan...”

Eros smiled, no longer masking any of his expressions with the cloth gone. “You’re probably better off agreeing because I can turn you around to watch, child.”

“Fuck you and fuck whoever made you,” I spat angrily.

Eros didn’t budge. His hand stayed locked around my throat as I was pivoted Sloan’s direction. And what I saw when my eyes finally met my companion was enough to make me lose my lunch.

Big gaping wounds and torn flesh. Skin practically painted red with blood. Clothes saturated by every stab, every cut, every bit of torn flesh from wounds inflicted on the beautiful Hunter. The worst part was the pain in the Brit’s expression as he stood, bound by magic, locked inside a torture I couldn’t even begin to understand. If I could reach the reverse serum in my pocket, I could save him, but I had to get out first.