Page 32 of Contested Crown

He pulled some of his magic loose from my forearm. The ink on my skin had twisted itself into the form of a knife, and it sliced my skin as it became physical.

Blood dripped from his fingers as he brought the knife up, then swiped it down, slicing the magic away, letting it shrivel and turn into nothing but brown dust.

His body went limp, no longer struggling against the pull, and I dropped down onto the stairs, my knees hitting hard. I panted—everything hurt.

Then, before I could think to do anything else, I reached out and grabbed Cade, pulling him into me, my fists tightening on his shirt.

The salty scent of blood hit me, and I drew back just far enough to grab his hands. The palm where he’d held the knife was bleeding, the cut deep enough that I hissed. He tilted his hand so that he could see, and his shoulders fell.

“Ouch,” he said, voice shot from the screaming.

His other arm was purpling with bruises, and the skin was bubbling from burn marks.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” I said, hoarse.

“I’ll keep that in mind as we’re running for our lives,” Cade said. He began to laugh, the sound shocking.

Somewhere in the building, I heard a door open. We needed to leave. Everyone had heard the fight, and soon, the cops would be here. The last thing either of us needed was the cops.

Before I stood, I grabbed all the documents, the IDs and half-finished passports. I handed one phone to Cade, shoving the other in my pocket along with everything else, and we limped down to the street.

As we started the car, I heard sirens in the distance. We didn’t wait to see how long it would take for them to arrive.

Part of me wanted to go back to the safe house, but that felt like moving backward. After I’d gotten Cade to agree to go to Los Santos, wehadto move forward. There wasn’t another option.

“Where should we go?” Cade asked, his question mirroring my thoughts. He frowned at his palms, spreading his fingers wide and watching as the magic trailed down his forearms.

“We need to stay in Los Santos,” I said. “This is where Declan is holed up.”

“How can you be sure?” Cade asked, turning his eyes to the green-and-white signage off the freeway. Krista lived…hadlived at the very edge of Los Santos where it bled into Windward City. We needed to get into Los Santos proper.

“Because I know him,” I said. “The city is where he’s comfortable. And he knows that if he leaves, he’ll be coming back to less territory. There’s always someone trying to topple the king, and he wouldn’t give any of his competitors the opportunity.”

“So first, we need to find him,” Cade said. “I assume you have some ideas.”

“Some,” I agreed.

Cade didn’t say anything more, but when his stomach growled, I pulled off the freeway, taking a few right-hand turns before I stopped in front of a bakery.

“Will they know you?” Cade asked.

“Probably not,” I said.

I was right—the girl at the counter didn’t even blink when I ordered. Back at the car, I drove us down an alley, parking on the side. No cameras, in an area of town fancy enough that Declan didn’t think he owned it.

Cade accepted the paper bag cautiously. “The last time you gave me food, it wasn’t exactly edible.”

“Yeah, well, this is one of those hipster places that uses whole grains and farm to table. They have the name of the pig that’s now their bacon on their chalkboard every morning.” I opened my own breakfast sandwich, the cooked meat making my stomach turn over with hunger. As I began to chew, I slouched back in my seat, making lists of all the things we’d need to do.

“The contested territories,” Cade said, picking at the paper covering his sandwich.

“What?” I asked.

“The contested territories. That’s where the mages are heading.” He unwrapped the sandwich and took a decisive bite.

“Okay…” I drew out the word, unsure what my question even was.

“I’ve been trying to think where I would go if I was running from my house,” Cade said. “And I’d go there.”