Page 25

ELIAS

B lood sprays across the broken floorboards as my claws tear through another one of Gideon’s bastards.

But there’s too many. Too fucking many.

Every time I think we’ve thinned them out, more shadows move through the smoke—black armor, red insignias flashing like a goddamn death warrant.

I pivot, tearing through one with a brutal swipe, the scent of burnt steel and charred magic filling my nose. Pain flares along my ribs, but I shove it down, focusing on the rhythm, strike, dodge, kill.

Kaia’s somewhere behind me.

Alive and fighting.

Every instinct in me howls to keep her there.

I crush another soldier against the wall, bones snapping under my hand, and whirl to look for her and that’s when it happens.

A searing pain slices through my side.

Deep, hot.

I stagger, snarling, grabbing the wound. Blood pours between my fingers, thick and dark, and for one fractured second the whole room tilts.

“Fuck,” I hiss, vision swimming.

The bastard who got me grins under his helmet, raising a blade wreathed in silver-fire. Poisoned. Meant to kill my kind slow and ugly.

I brace for it, but Kaia’s there.

A blur of dark hair, golden-amber eyes, and pure goddamn fury.

She slams into the soldier with a snarl, knocking him back. The force isn’t human— isn’t even close. Her hands flare gold, raw magic crackling along her skin like a second layer, bright enough to blind.

She doesn’t hesitate.

Doesn’t falter.

She chooses me.

"Move, Elias!" she shouts, voice raw.

But I can’t, not fast enough. Blood loss hits me like a brick wall.

Kaia swears and grabs me under the arm, hauling my heavy-ass frame against her. I can feel her trembling with effort, but she doesn’t let go.

Not once.

Through the haze, I catch flashes—the chaos of battle, the dead around us, the scorch marks painting the walls. The Order’s elite falling like fucking dominos because one girl decided she wasn’t playing their game anymore.

She half-drags, half-carries me through the breach, down into the service tunnels below the safehouse. Dark, damp, reeking of mildew and rot. I stumble and curse, nearly blacking out, but Kaia tightens her grip.

"Not yet," she mutters, voice breaking. "You don't get to fucking die on me."

We crash into a hollowed-out corridor, the ruins of an old stronghold The Order abandoned years ago after a raid gone sideways. I barely remember how she’d know this place existed—but right now I’m too busy trying not to choke on my own blood to care.

Kaia shoves me into a corner, drops to her knees, and presses trembling hands against the wound.

"Hold still," she says through gritted teeth.

"Not... going anywhere," I rasp, trying to laugh. It comes out a weak, wet sound.

Suddenly, that feeling again.

The same raw energy I saw in the lab.

The same golden light.

It pours from her palms, lighting up the entire damn tunnel. Her markings surface—faint glowing veins of gold up her neck, down her arms, shimmering across her face like some ancient warpaint.

It’s... beautiful.

Terrifying. Holy fucking gods.

I shudder, head falling back against the stone wall, fighting to stay conscious just to keep looking at her.

She’s gritting her teeth, sweat slick on her brow, trying to pour everything she has into healing me. But she’s new at this. Untrained. Half her power leaks wild around her, making the air hum, making the ground beneath us breathe .

And it fucking hurts.

I snarl as the magic lances through my wound, burning and stitching and reshaping muscle in ways nature never intended. I dig my nails into the dirt, riding out the pain, trusting her in a way I’ve never trusted anyone.

Kaia’s voice breaks as she whispers, “Come on, come on, don’t you dare fucking die?—”

And just like that, the worst of it passes.

I can breathe. I can feel again.

The glow around her fades, sputters, and she slumps forward, catching herself with both hands on my chest, panting hard.

We stay like that for a long second.

Just breathing.

Just existing.

Her forehead presses against my collarbone. Her hair smells like smoke and salt and something purely her .

I lift a shaking hand and tangle it in her hair, pulling her a little closer, like maybe I can anchor both of us before we drown.

"You’re a fucking idiot," I mutter.

She lets out a breathless, shaky laugh against my skin. "Takes one to know one, asshole."

I huff, the corners of my mouth twitching.

Silence thickens between us, heavy with everything we’re too broken to say.

I shift, grimacing as the movement tugs at my half-healed side. "You saved my ass."

"Damn right I did," she says fiercely, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.

Her golden-amber gaze sears through me, all fire and defiance and fearlessness.

Gods, she’s stunning.

Wild.

Untamed.

I clear my throat roughly. "You didn’t have to."

"I know," she says. "But I wanted to."

Something unspoken passes between us, crackling and raw.

I tighten my grip in her hair, my other hand sliding up her waist, feeling the tremble under her skin. She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch.

If anything, she leans in.

The last shreds of restraint I had snap like old rope.

I tug her mouth to mine in a kiss that’s brutal and desperate and real —a promise and a curse all wrapped into one breathless heartbeat.

She kisses me back like she’s been waiting for it. Like she’s been burning for it. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, grounding me when everything else threatens to fall apart.

We’re a goddamn mess.

Blood. Dirt. Magic. Pain.

But it doesn’t matter.

We’re still here.

Still fighting.

And for the first time since this whole fucking nightmare started, I believe we might actually have a chance.