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Chapter twenty-nine

ATALIIA

An explosion reverberated through the room and my eyes slammed shut as wood and debris flew through the air around us, crashing and splintering to the floor.

Then, there was silence.

Ear shattering silence for only a moment.

That’s when I heard it, the sound of the Gods finally answering my prayers.

The sound that was weaved into every beautiful piece of my soul.

“Remove your hands.” Cin’s words were a snarl and it was the most haunting, beautiful melody my ears had ever heard.

The hands around my limbs tightened as Jasper spoke.

“Our bastard God, to what do we owe the surprise?” His voice dripped with hate as the words left his lips.

My eyes cracked open against the swelling of my face, flinching as I blinked away the tears that blurred my vision.

Cin stood in the hole blown into the side of the house, shadows snaking from her body and slithering toward us.

She took three steps forward, her eyes locked on the men whose fingers were still coiling around my limbs.

Out of the shadow billowing at her back, I watched as Dukovich stepped through the opening, a giant grey wolf at his side.

A sob shuddered from my chest at the sight of them.

I was going to be okay.

I was going to live .

Dukovich’s gaze met mine and for one fleeting moment, I saw fear flare there. A black veil of rage pulled over his irises in the next breath and his eyes shifted to the men holding me down as a growl left his lips.

Cyloe stalked toward Cin, her head lowered to the ground, readying to pounce.

“I will say this one last time, remove your hands from my sister .” Creed’s grip loosed around my thigh as the words fell from Cin’s lips and the other four men tightened theirs, their jagged nails cutting into my skin.

Shadows exploded into the room and Creed sprinted for the door. Dukovich stepped into his path and the sickening crack of bones crunching rang out as Creed’s neck snapped. I watched as his limp body hit the floor, the sound clashing with the backs of the other four men hitting the wall behind me.

What was left of the shack’s frame shook from the force.

Pain knocked the air from my body as I tried to turn my head to see what was happening. I couldn’t feel my legs anymore—could barely move my fingers.

Dukovich was already at my side, covering me in his coat as a knife sliced through the rope.

My body stiffened, and I knew it was shock beginning to seep in as my eyelids drooped.

“Stay awake, Ataliia,” Dukovich commanded as he lifted me into his arms, pulling my body against his chest. “ Please , stay awake.” It was a plea this time, whispered into my blood caked hair.

Tears flowed silently from my eyes, as he pulled me closer and stepped into the night.

I knew it was cold, knew that the air was freezing as I watched the snow fall to the frozen ground.

But I couldn’t feel it.

Dukovich started to run and I peered over his shoulder, watching as the dwelling grew smaller. Watching as shadows consumed all the light left in that crumbling frame and the screams of those men poured into the night sky.

I could not grip on to consciousness for much longer.

My head lolled against Dukovich’s chest, the rhythm of his pounding heart echoing in my ears. Each breath was a battle, a desperate grasp for air that seemed to slip further away with every passing second.

“Don’t you dare give up, Ataliia,” Dukovich growled, his breath coming in white puffs in the frigid air. “We’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer.” His voice was desperate as it cut through the haze, the words a lifeline in the abyss.

I wanted to respond, to tell him I was trying. That I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

But my lips refused to form the words.

The darkness was calling to me, a siren’s song promising an end to the pain—to the suffering.

Forcing my eyes open, I blinked away the tears that pooled in the corners, the water freezing to my lashes like tiny crystals. The night sky stretched endlessly above us, stars obscured by the falling snow.

It was so beautiful, so peaceful.

Dukovich’s pace quickened, his breaths humming against my side in short, sharp bursts as he navigated the treacherous terrain from wherever I had been held.

He could have tethered us, but he didn’t. He knew the pull of it would exacerbate the pain flooding my body.

I wished I could tell him I wouldn’t feel it.

That I couldn’t feel anything.

I desperately wished I could feel it, that I could cling to the pain and use it as an anchor to keep me tied to reality.

“Stay with me, Ataliia. Please, just stay with me ,” he murmured, his words a desperate prayer against my skin.

Even as I fought, I could feel my strength waning, my grip on life slipping. Peeling my eyes open, I realized we were no longer on the snow covered ground, but pounding up wooden steps.

Dukovich shouldered through a door and suddenly the night was replaced by blinding light.

Urgent voices swirled around me and I felt myself being lowered onto something soft.

“. . . severe lacerations . . . blood loss . . .” The words faded in and out as I teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. “. . . need to warm . . . now . . .”

As the last of my strength slipped from me, a single thought echoed through my mind: Those fucking men would not get the honor of killing me .

I wasn’t ready to die.

Not yet.

Not when there was still so much left undone.

With a final surge of determination, I clung to that thought like a lifeline.

Then, oblivion rose up and dragged me under.

Sensation returned slowly, as if my mind was trudging through a thick fog. The first thing I became aware of was the pain that seemed to radiate through every inch of my body. The second was the feeling of something warm and solid gripping my hand.

The acrid scent of medicinal herbs flooded my nostrils as I struggled to open my eyes, the effort monumental. When I finally managed to crack them open, the world was a blur of muted colors and shapes. I blinked once, twice, trying to bring everything into focus.

That’s when I saw him.

Dukovich was sitting beside me, his large frame hunched over in a chair that seemed far too small. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed as his hand engulfed mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against my skin. For the first time, I did not recoil from his touch—I welcomed it.

I tried to speak, to say his name, but all that came out was a weak rasp.

It was enough.

Dukovich’s eyes flew open, his gaze locking with mine. “Ataliia,” he breathed, his voice rough and full of worry. “You’re awake.”

I managed a small nod, my throat too dry, too torn to form words. He seemed to understand, immediately reaching for a cup on the bedside table. Gently, he lifted my head and pressed the rim to my chapped lips. Cool water trickled down my throat, soothing the raw flesh.

“How . . . long?” I croaked out after a few sips. My tongue felt thick and clumsy in my mouth.

“Only a couple hours,” he said softly, turning to set the cup back on the table.

I pulled my hand from his, trying to push myself from the bed and gasped at the pain that shot from my abdomen.

“Careful,” Dukovich commanded, his hand sliding around the back of my head as I collapsed back on the bed.

The creak of a door made me flinch, my body tensing for a threat as more pain rippled through my limbs and my teeth clenched together. Cin stood in the doorway, drenched in crimson, and my eyes dragged over her as I forced myself not to recoil from her presence.

She’d had blood on her the last few times I’d seen her. Never my own, but always the product of my decisions.

Our eyes locked, and my heart shot to my throat.

“Dukovich, could you give me and Ata a moment, please?” Cin asked, as she took another step into the room.

Dukovich hesitated, his eyes flicking between the two of us.

I could see the reluctance etched in the lines of his face, the protective instinct warring with his respect for her.

After a long moment, he gave a curt nod and rose from his seat.

He paused as he passed her, leaning in to murmur something I couldn’t quite catch.

Cin’s eyes never left mine, but she inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment.

Then Dukovich was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence stretched between us, heavy and thick with unspoken words. What could I say? How could I possibly begin to apologize for the months of coldness, for the wall I’d erected between us? The pain I had caused?

Cin stood motionless, her blood-soaked form a stark contrast to the sterile cleanliness of the room. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry again despite the water I’d just consumed. I watched as she approached the bed, each step measured and cautious as if she were approaching a wounded animal.

In a way, I supposed I was.

She sank into the chair Dukovich had vacated, her crimson-stained hands clasped tightly in her lap. Up close, I could see the weariness in her eyes, the shadows that lurked beneath the surface.

She looked . . . haunted .

“Ata, I . . .” she began, her voice catching on my name.

“No, please, don’t.” My voice cracked, the words sticking in my throat.

I knew what was coming next and I would not let her be the one to apologize for doing nothing wrong. I shook my head, ignoring the wave of dizziness the motion brought.

“I thought I lost you.” A sob broke from her chest as her hand shot into mine and tears began flowing from my eyes.

I pulled her toward me, not caring about the searing pain bursting like fireworks throughout my body as I dragged her into the bed beside me.

Her hands pulled my head into her chest and it was at that moment that I broke, that I fully released every ounce of turmoil trapped inside my body like a caged beast. It roared to life, taking the form of a cry that shook me to my core, and she only pulled me closer.

I had forgotten what it felt like to be held by her.

Forgotten how much I needed her.