Page 12

12

LIORA

D ain is here.

He is right there, sitting among the others, broad and unshaken, wings draped lazily, gaze dark and unreadable as he watches the fire.

As if he does not see me. As if he doesn’t give a fuck.

The truth of it settles in my heart, sharp and ugly. He left me. He chose to walk away, to abandon me in the mountains, and now—now he acts as if I do not exist.

Something in me snarls, something raw, something I don’t understand. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t.

Yet, I can’t stop my eyes from flickering to him, stealing glances, searching for something, anything that betrays even the smallest reaction.

There is none.

Rhogar’s fingers skim my jaw, tilting my chin up, forcing my attention back to him. To the real danger.

His smirk widens as he leans in, his heat pressing too close, too confident. “Your heart is beating too fast, little human.” His claws graze the side of my throat, slow, deliberate. “Should I take that as fear?”

I lift my chin. I refuse to let him see that he’s right.

“I don’t fear you.”

The others chuckle, deep and guttural. A few of them shift, intrigued by the exchange, but Dain does not move.

I see it in my periphery, his jaw tightens, his claws flex slightly against his thigh. But he does not intervene.

Of course, he doesn’t.

Rhogar exhales a low chuckle, his grip on my chin tightening. “Brave. I like that.” He straightens, voice carrying over the fire. “A human with no home, no weapons, no protection.” His smirk turns sharper. “No claims.”

Dain’s head tilts slightly at that, but still, he stays silent.

Rhogar releases me, but only so he can step back, arms spread in mock generosity. “You can stay.”

A kindness laced with sharp teeth.

The gathered gargoyles shift, some murmuring in interest, others looking on in amusement. This is a game to them. I am a game to them.

I force my voice to remain steady. “And what’s the cost?”

Rhogar laughs. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

“The cost,” he murmurs, “is whatever I decide it to be.”

I keep my expression blank, though everything inside me burns. I won’t be caged again. Not by chains, not by hands, not by men or monsters.

I won’t.

Dain is watching. I feel it, even though I refuse to look at him.

But he says nothing.

He doesn’t stop this. Doesn’t move, doesn’t interfere, doesn’t do a godsdamned thing.

Fine.

I step back, voice firm. “No.”

Rhogar’s smirk vanishes. The amusement in his eyes dims, turning into something else, something hungry.

The gathered gargoyles tense.

A refusal is not what they expected.

I pivot on my heel, intending to leave, but I don’t make it far.

Rhogar’s claws snatch my wrist, yanking me back with brutal force. I stumble, colliding against him, his grip tightening like iron.

“No?” His voice is softer now, almost thoughtful. “Where do you think you’re going, little human?”

I shove against him, but he doesn’t move.

His smirk returns, sharper, darker. “You think we just let you walk away?” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “You should learn to be grateful.”

There is no tent. No fabric walls to shield us from the wind, no fragile shelter. Gargoyles do not need such things.

Instead, Rhogar drags me toward a makeshift den, half-carved into the mountainside, jagged rock serving as the only barrier between me and the others.

The fire crackles behind us, but no one stops him.

Not even him.

Rhogar shoves me inside, pinning me between him and the rock wall. The space is too small, too dark, too close.

“Don’t fight,” he murmurs, claws skimming down my arm, too slow, too knowing. “You’re tired. You need warmth. Protection.” His fingers press against my hip. “I can give you that.”

His touch burns.

Not with heat, but with filth.

I lash out, twisting violently, trying to shove him off. His grip tightens, claws biting into my skin, warning me.

Something inside me snaps and magic surges.

A pulse erupts from my core, raw and untrained, slamming into him like a violent gust of wind.

Rhogar staggers back. His eyes widen in horror.

His snarl splits the night.

“Purna!”

The word rips from his throat, raw and vicious, filled with hatred.

The entire camp goes still. Then bursts into action simultaneously.