Page 52

Kieran

The moment she dropped, I was already moving.

I didn’t care about the ash. The blood. The stunned silence around us. I crossed the circle in a heartbeat and caught her before she hit the stone, her body crumpling like the fight had poured everything out of her—and maybe it had.

“Dahlia.” Her name scraped out of me. I dropped to my knees with her in my arms, cradling her like something sacred. “No, no, no—”

Her eyes fluttered, barely open.

“Kieran…” she rasped.

“Stay with me, flower. Please.” My voice cracked. I pressed my forehead to hers, felt how cold her skin was. “You don’t get to leave me, too. Not after everything. Not you.”

“Still here,” she breathed, and that ghost of a smile—faint, bloody—nearly broke me.

I held her tighter.

The Elder approached, his face solemn. He knelt beside us, his gnarled fingers already glowing faintly with ancient magic.

“She fought for us all,” he murmured. “And she won. You both did.”

He laid a hand over Dahlia’s chest, just above her heart, and light seeped through her skin. Her breathing evened, some of the bruises fading, the worst of the cuts closing. Not all—but enough. Enough to hold her together.

I was still holding her when the doors slammed open.

Steel rang against stone.

Boots thundered.

And then—

“Thea,” I muttered, barely lifting my head.

She stormed into the chamber like a hurricane in boots and leather, fifty armed guards behind her, gun drawn, eyes blazing.

“Secure the perimeter!” she barked, not sparing a glance for anyone but Dahlia. “Shields up. Medical to the rear. Move, move, move!”

The Order scrambled. Some backed away. Some dropped to their knees. The Elder merely stepped aside, eyes brimming with something like tired relief.

Thea reached us fast, dropping to her knees beside me. Her voice shook even under the fury.

“What the hell happened?” she whispered, reaching out but stopping short of touching Dahlia. “What did that bitch do to her?”

“Dahlia won,” I said quietly. “She ended it.”

Thea swallowed hard, and for a second, I saw it—the fear. The pain. The cracks beneath her armor. She reached out and finally rested her hand over Dahlia’s.

“I should’ve been here,” she said hoarsely.

“She wouldn’t let you.” I brushed Dahlia’s hair from her face. “She didn’t want anyone else dying for her.”

Thea blinked fast, jaw tight. “She’s a goddamn idiot.”

“She’s my idiot,” I said.

And Thea didn’t argue.

Not this time.

Her gaze swept the room, took in the scattered ashes, the ruined circle, Dahlia in my arms. And then she saw him .

“Silas!”

She was at his side in an instant, knees hitting the stone hard, hands already moving.

I looked too.

Silas was slumped against the throne, barely upright.

His face was a mess of bruises, his eye gone, nothing but a dark hollow left behind.

Blood soaked through what was left of his shirt, and his wrists were torn raw from magic-wrought chains.

But I could feel it—the hum of power returning, slow and uncertain. His magic had survived. Somehow.

“You’re bleeding everywhere,” Thea snapped, already unrolling a length of gauze. “I leave you alone for five minutes—”

Silas gave her a tired smirk, lips split and bloodied. “You should see the other guy.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, but her hands were careful as they pressed to his wounds.

“I’d rather you kiss me better.”

“I will gag you,” she said sweetly, winding a bandage around his arm with far more force than necessary.

Silas hissed. “Gods above, marry me.”

“ Shut up ,” Thea snapped, checking his pulse, her hands surprisingly gentle despite the bite in her voice. “You’re lucky to be breathing.”

“I am,” he said, wincing as she pressed a clean cloth to the gash along his temple. “Especially now that you’re hovering over me like an avenging angel.”

“Try harpy,” Thea muttered, wrapping his injured head.

But Silas, bleeding and battered, grinned through the pain. “Woman, I’m gonna follow you into the pits of hell.”

“You're already here,” she said, tightening the wrap. “You’re lucky I followed you .”

I didn’t say a word. Just watched.

They were both ridiculous. But maybe—maybe they deserved each other. Chaos finding chaos.

I looked down at the woman in my arms.

And maybe—just maybe—I had a little chaos of my own worth keeping.