Page 51

Forty-Seven

ALEC

A while passes before the thinnest feeling flits through me, through the bond.

Anxiety. Panic.

It’s the same dreadful sensation as when she was locked in the dungeon and suffering from claustrophobia. It has me on my feet and across the basement.

Harlow, what’s wrong?

I wait and wait but get no response. Have we reached the maximum distance that the connection can reach and we’re unable to hear one another? While possible, I feel it isn’t that.

Something’s wrong.

Hellion, answer me.

More silence.

Nothing through the bond. No feeling. Just emptiness.

My Bride is in trouble and it’s probably those fucking witches. They’re doing something to her, and it’ll be their final acts before I rip their heads off.

I’m coming.

I’m at the top of the stairs quickly, fists slamming and cracking into the door, but the enchantment the High Priestess covered the basement with shimmers, telling me it’s not dark out yet.

Fuck. Even if I broke through her spell, I can’t go outside.

I must . Harlow’s in danger.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

While I’m aware of all these facts, it doesn’t stop me from seeking the bond again, for a feeling she’s alright.

And never getting a response.