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25

EVANGELINE

T he world was spinning in circles.

No, wait, that would be me.

It was impossible to tell with the way the night blurred around me, how the sky and the ground traded places every few seconds as I was yanked sideways through the air, stomach churning. The magic globe tucked between my breasts burned , pulsing with power as it dragged me to the destination Malachi had chosen.

Malachi.

I swallowed the curse clawing up my throat, forcing myself to focus on breathing and trying not to vomit. If I let terror settle too deep into my bones, I would be dead before I hit the ground.

I had to focus and try not to die.

Which was kind of hard to do when I started plummeting straight down.

Wind screamed in my ears as I twisted, arms flailing, fingers clawing for something—anything—to break my fall. Crimson House appeared below me, those pointed turrets and sweeping gables blurring as I plummeted past them like a fucking rock.

I barely had time to tuck my body into a compact ball, every muscle contracting for impact before I slammed into the ground.

No, the bushes, thank God.

Branches cracked beneath my impact, flesh tore as I cartwheeled through hundred-year-old yews twenty feet high, wood splintering, sharpened points dragging through my skin like knives, my hands scrabbling to catch onto something solid.

Pain exploded when I finally hit the ground.

My right side bounced against the spongy undergrowth, my left shoulder taking the brunt of the impact before I rolled out onto soft, wet grass. Everything was on fire—my ribs, my legs, the scrapes licking up my arm and leg. I coughed, tried to push myself up, and collapsed a few feet away from the stone walkway leading to the front doors.

I guessed I was lucky.

Four feet to the left and I’d be a wet splat on the flagstones and I couldn’t even crawl a few lousy steps and get inside as a light rain began to fall.

The door swung open, light spilling out, followed by the sound of rushing footsteps. “Bloody hell,” a grumpy, familiar voice muttered, the toes of well-worn boots appearing in my line of sight, outlined against the gray stone. “Evie?”

“Blake.” I tried lifting my head, but my body decided that, too, was a no-go.

“Don’t move. I’ve got you. Stay still, you’re hurt bad.” He gripped my arm like I was made of glass, his palm coasting over my torso, prodding and pushing, checking for injuries. Everything fucking hurt. His hand pressed against my cheek, tilting my face up into the light.

“I shouldn’t move you, but you’re getting soaked.” Only then did I realize he was leaning over me, sheltering me from the worst of the weather, water dripping from his hair, splattering on the ground around us.

“I called Sylvester, he’s on his way. He said to bring her inside.” Riordan.

“You’re safe now, Evie. You’re at Crimson House and you’re safe,” Blake said, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. I sagged against the cold ground, blinking up at my mate. His handsome features were drawn tight, his color paler than normal, his dark eyes bright with relief.

Oh God, I was really back. I was here, but…but…

I tried to get my mouth to move, tried to tell them to help Malachi, but couldn’t.

He was hurt, he was in pain, and he was alone with Ravok. He was going to die, and I couldn’t do anything to help him.

Riordan came into view, “Come on, get her in the house, she can’t be out in this, she’s going into shock.”

“This will hurt, but I’ll be as gentle as I can, Evie,” Blake murmured, working his arms under me, then lifting, my body sagging, broken bones and ripped flesh and ruptured organs shifting into places they shouldn’t be.

Darkness edged my vision, breaths coming hard and fast as he straightened up, rolling me against his chest as warm summer rain pummeled my face. “That will be the worst of it.”

“Malachi,” I rasped, my throat lined with glass. “Help him.”

“Fat fucking chance of that.” Riordan’s voice vibrated with fury. “He sent you through the fucking rifts while you were injured. You could have fucking died .”

I tried to speak, tried to tell them what happened, but the words tangled in my throat. Blake carried me into Crimson House and I bit back a whimper at the pain lancing through me, my body turning into a tangle of agony that had no beginning and no end.

“Easy,” Riordan murmured, his hand gently touching my shoulder. “We’ve got you.”

Blake was careful, and as soon as we crossed the threshold, the warmth was immediate, the scent of aged wood and lingering incense wrapping around me like a second skin. My breath hitched. This place smelled like home, like memories, like somewhere I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

And just that fast, the guilt hit, the memory of me and Malachi and everything that meant only adding to the physical pain.

After a tense argument, they settled me onto a long, tufted red couch in the sitting room. Riordan closed the heavy drapes, drowning out the storm outside. Every time I tried to move, Blake pressed a firm hand to my shoulder, keeping me down.

“Stay still.”

“I need to?—”

“You need to not die before Sylvester gets here,” he interrupted. “Let’s start there and work our way down the list.”

I scowled but let my head fall back against the cushions. Every part of me was on fire, and from my self-diagnostic, I had a broken hand and some ribs, a collapsed lung, a ruptured spleen, plus a deep gash along my thigh and a host of bruises blooming across my back.

If I’d still been human, I’d probably be on an operating table while the surgeon scrubbed in, not an antique sofa being scolded by my mate. I didn’t even recall getting half these injuries and my magic…my magic was a faint ember, no sign of shadowy flames.

Riordan crouched down beside me, eyes scanning my face. “What happened, Evie?”

I sucked in a shallow breath that seared my insides with pain, just to get out one, miserable name. “ Ravok .”

Blake stiffened, the look on his face had the rest of the words died in my throat. Riordan whirled away with a low curse.

I forced myself to keep going. “Even though it’s only been a few days, he’s back to full strength. He has Malachi.” The words were sharp as shattered glass. “Silas and my uncles and my cousins are all thralls. We have to secure the castle, erect wards, get everyone out of here.”

“Yes, we saw your text,” Riordan muttered, not sounding happy as a thick, suffocating silence settled over the room.

I turned my head and he was right there, running gentle fingers down my throat, following the line of fiery scratches running from my jaw to my collarbone. “These are by someone’s hand. Who the fuck did this, Evie?”

“Silas. He…Ravok forced him to. My father, the monster, under the control of a bigger monster. The irony is…awful.”

“I swear to the fucking gods, I’m going to kill all of them.” An echo of power flooded the room, hollowing out my ears, Rohr’s hands tracing my arms, my face, before he worked his way down my body, his muttered curses and threats growing more and more creative.

“From the look of things,” Blake’s jaw clenched. “You barely made it out alive. Tell me Ravok is down or injured, at least?” He peered at my face. “Then your father and uncles, they’re dead?” I managed to jerk my head to the side.

“There were too many. Ravok was too strong and Malachi…” My voice broke. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting tears stinging behind them. “He gave me the globe. Sent me away. He stayed behind to buy me time. To buy us time.” The words tasted like failure, and they were, because I’d abandoned him.

Riordan exhaled slowly. “Then he’s gone.”

“No,” I hissed, narrowing my eyes. “He’s not gone . We have to go back for him. If we leave him there, he’s as good as dead.”

Blake barked out a harsh laugh. “Absolutely not.”

I recoiled, shock washing through me in a cold wave. “What?”

“Ravok is stronger than ever, and you barely survived,” he said coldly. “You want to march back in and get yourself killed? No .”

I pushed myself up, ignoring the pain shooting through my ribs. “I’m not leaving him there. He bought me time. He stayed, to give me a chance to come here and warn you.”

“We’ve been down this road before, remember?” Blake crossed his arms. “Malachi is many things, but noble is at the very bottom of that list.” He muttered another foul curse under his breath and turned away, pacing toward the fireplace, where he opened a small box, then palmed something in his hand.

“Noble’s not even on the list,” Riordan added, for good measure. “I agree. The bastard made his bed, let him fucking lie in it.” He shrugged. “Draven’s been on a short list of mine for a while now. I can finally cross him off.”

“After everything he’s done to us, I get that, I do. I felt the exact same way, only a few days ago. But you don’t know everything.” I explained, “Malachi sacrificed himself so I could escape and warn you. I’m only here because he sent me away and…God knows what Ravok’s doing to him right now. ”

“And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t throw your life away.” Rohr’s voice was hard, unyielding. “We’re not losing you, Evangeline. Malachi is disposable. You are not.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Blake moved back to my side and uncorked a small flask with one sharp motion. “Here. Drink this.”

I eyed the dark liquid warily. “What is it?”

“An emergency healing tonic. Not as strong as Sylvester’s magic, but this will stabilize you until he arrives.”

I hesitated, then took the flask and swallowed. The taste was bitter, burning all the way down, but warmth spread through me almost instantly, dulling the sharpest edges of the pain. I sagged into the couch, tension bleeding into dull relief.

“What about…is Angel safe?” Whatever was in that bottle turned my tongue thick. “You have to get her somewhere safe, her…and Bex…and everyone else…too dangerous here.”

Blake crouched down beside me. “Angel and Bex are safe, Evie.” His voice was softer, but no less firm. “We evacuated all nonessential personnel from Crimson House, like you suggested. Nash is building up our forces, but we don’t have the numbers for a direct assault yet. This is the reality. We have an entire clan to protect, of which Malachi Draven is not a member.”

I clenched my fingers around the bottle. “What do we do? Sit here while Ravok kills him? Wait until that monster comes for us?”

“No,” Riordan said. “Fiona’s working to find a way to kill Ravok, but she needs time.”

“And,” Blake shrugged. “Ravok holding Malachi prisoner will buy us that time.” I just stared at the utter callousness, but…hadn’t I been just as hateful two days ago? Hadn’t I landed at Malachi’s castle ready to stab a knife into his heart and ash his body for good measure?

Yes, I had .

Maybe there was something wrong with me. Somehow, I’d gone from burning his world down to joining Team Malachi in the space of a few days.

Maybe Stockholm syndrome was real.

But this was wrong. Every second we wasted here was another second Malachi suffered.

Riordan must have seen my struggle in my face because he sighed and placed a hand on my arm. “Look, we’ll do what we can, but first, you need a healer, blood, and sleep.”

I wanted to argue. To fight. To scream. But the weight of exhaustion bore down on me, my limbs growing heavier by the second.

“We sent for Sylvester,” Riordan said. “He’ll be here soon.”

I nodded, “he’ll probably just torture me,” I muttered, my mind racing, heart still pounding with the knowledge that Malachi was suffering in the hands of a monster, while I was going to spend the night in my own bed, safe and sound.

Healing after falling out of the sky, but still.

Ravok was cruelty personified, he had a thousand years of rage, and Malachi at his mercy. Suddenly, I bitterly regretted every single taunt I’d made about all the awful things Ravok would do, if he ever caught Malachi.

Because right now, they were probably all coming true.

I closed my eyes, my fingers tightening around the globe. Malachi’s last gift. His last words, telling me to live my life. The haunted expression when he told me I wouldn’t be one of his mistakes.

I couldn’t stop thinking how his expression perfectly matched the way I seemed to always feel, like the weight of my faults somehow grew heavier over time, never lighter.

And all of a sudden, that life he wanted me to live seemed awfully empty without him in it.