Page 53 of Rising Reign (The Wolves of Crescent Creek #3)

KINGSTON

It was if the whole world slowed with the horror of it. Locke’s body lay unmoving on the ground, his skin far too pale, blood spilling out around him. Wren falling, falling, falling. She hit the forest floor with a deafening thud, that black blood still seeping out of her nose.

And Bastian just looked on in shock. As if he were truly horrified by what he’d done. The shield slipped as he spun around, trying to make sense of what he’d put into motion, but I didn’t give a damn. I was already running, my brothers at my sides.

“Brix, Puck, take Locke. Ender, we’ve got Wren.” My voice didn’t even sound like my own. It was robotic and hollow. No feeling at all.

I dropped to my knees next to Wren. Her skin had gone pale, too. As if all the color that lived inside her had been sucked out. And then there was that damn black blood. All the darkness she’d taken from everyone around her .

“What have I done?” Bastian croaked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring down at his hands, coming to terms with all the death and destruction he’d caused. All the pain, cruelty, the suffering he’d wrought.

His body seized, and he clutched at his chest. Clawing there. Henry, Clara’s enforcer, moved Bastian as he hit the ground. His eyes went wide and then froze there, his body contorted. Henry pressed two fingers to his neck. “He’s gone.”

“Good riddance,” Rhys spat.

I couldn’t find it in me to care. I’d thought I would feel joy when Bastian’s life ended, relief that the man who’d killed my sister’s soul was finally gone. But I felt nothing.

“We need to move. Now,” Ender growled.

I jerked my head in a nod. On three, Ender and I lifted Wren as Brix and Puck hoisted Locke.

We moved through the forest as quickly as possible.

Hera ran ahead, calling off a list of things she needed to Clara.

Rhys, Juan, Franco, and the enforcers surrounded us, providing protection from people we no longer needed to be shielded from.

The still-standing members of the Red River pack, all the mercenaries. Confusion swept over their expressions, as well as grief and guilt. Some wept. Some wailed. Some simply looked shocked beyond comprehension.

Wren had given them true justice. To face the truth of what they’d done.

But I didn’t give a damn about any of them. I didn’t even give a damn about justice. I only cared about Wren and Locke.

“Hold them here,” Hera ordered from up ahead. “Use the bond.”

I focused on the tether that linked Wren and I for all eternity. The one that felt like the most beautiful chain. I pushed all the energy I could through that bond, and Wren let out a cough, more black blood seeping from her mouth.

“Fuck,” Ender swore, so much grief and fear in his eyes .

“Don’t,” I clipped. “We’re not losing her.”

His gaze met mine. “We’re not losing her.”

Clyde and Dina stood holding open the back doors, their faces pale.

We charged in, getting Wren and Locke to the medical room as quickly as possible. Clara pulled out a second gurney from the corner. “Push them together,” Hera ordered. “We need them close.”

Clara moved instantly, shoving the beds together and locking them. We laid Locke and Wren gingerly on them as enforcers grabbed the ingredients that Hera called out. She muttered to herself as she mixed things. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough. They may be too far gone.”

My heart lurched in my chest. “Please,” I rasped. “Please, save them.” They were the best of us. The kindest. The purest souls. This world would be so much darker without them in it. And my world would be black.

Hera cursed but began chanting over her bowl. Sparks swirled above it and then blinked out. She continued chanting as she poured the herbs over both their bodies. The sparks erupted again, illuminating every injury. Locke’s were confined to his neck, but Wren’s? They were everywhere.

Because the darkness was everywhere.

Hera stared at her as tears welled in her eyes. “It’s not enough. My magic isn’t enough.”

I dropped to my knees beside the bed and pressed my lips to Wren’s temple. “Don’t leave me, Little Warrior. Fight. Please.”

Rhys moved, tearing open cupboards in search of something.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hera barked.

“A syringe. I need a syringe.”

Something in his voice spurred Hera into action. She moved to a drawer and pulled out a sealed packet.

Rhys took it quickly and ripped it open. Fastening the needle in place, he slid it into a vein on his forearm. As he pulled blood from his body, my eyes went wide. It wasn’t red like you’d expect it to be. It was black, but with a shimmer that was hypnotizing.

Hera gasped, her gaze flying to Rhys’s face. “You’re a Nocturnae.”

He quickly removed the needle and shoved the syringe into Hera’s hand. “Give her my blood. It’ll heal her.”

Hera stood there for a moment, still frozen in shock.

“Now!” Rhys ordered. “Before it’s too late.”

That jerked Hera into motion. She moved to the side of the bed and plunged the needle into Wren’s heart, injecting the blood directly. The moment it was in her system, you could see it. A glow began in her heart and spread like a wave of light throughout her body.

Sparks swam through her veins and through the air. One by one, the lights in the room flickered and then went out. And all we could do was let our hope light the darkness.