Page 132 of Thunder's Reckoning

Her lashes fluttered, her breath hitchin’ ragged. “You came…”

“Always,” I rasped, holdin’ her tighter.

Ash stepped outta the shadows then, knife still wet, silver hair flashin’ with the lightning. He looked like he’d been carved straight outta the storm itself. “Everyone who wanted out is in the tunnel,” he said, his voice clipped. “They’re moving already. We did it.”

But his jaw locked, and I saw the shift comin’ before he spoke. “All but one.”

Chain turned sharp. “Who?”

“Lark,” Ash said, his tone grim. “She never made it to the meet. Last I heard, she was seen in the guard wing. If she’s not in the tunnel, they pulled her before the wine hit.”

Chain’s hand tightened on his rifle. “Then that’s where I’ll start.”

“Chain—” I started, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.

“You got your woman. You got your family. You get ‘em out,” he said steady. “I’ll find the girl.”

Ash stepped closer, steady as stone. “The guard wing’s two halls over. North corner. If she’s still alive, that’s where they’d hold her.” His eyes flicked to Chain, searing. “You’ll need to be fast. They’ll be scrambling now that the hall’s blown wide.”

Chain nodded once, rifle tight in his grip. “Then I’ll be faster.” And just like that, he was gone, slippin’ into the smoke-choked dark without another word.

Sable shifted weak in my arms, her fingers clutchin’ at my cut like she was afraid I’d vanish. “Don’t… leave me,” she whispered.

My throat burned raw. “I’m never leavin’ you again,” I swore, my voice thick as the storm rollin’ above.

Ash was at my side now, calm and deliberate. “Come on,” he said. “We get her to the tunnel before more guards wake up and flood this courtyard.”

I tightened my grip on Sable, teeth grit. “Then let’s move.”

I didn’t look back at the Flame Hall. Didn’t need to. The fire was already eatin’ it from the inside out.

All that mattered now was the tunnel, the ones waitin’ at the other end, and the vow I’d kept.

***

THE TUNNEL MOUTHloomed ahead, just adark crack in the stone, half-hidden by roots and rock, but it felt like salvation carved into the earth.

We’d almost made it.

Then the shadows shifted.

Figures slipped outta the tree line, robes pale as bone in the storm light. Five at least, maybe more. Their eyes burned hollow, wild with devotion. Knives glinted. One bastard cocked a shotgun, the sound loud as thunder.

“Fuck,” I muttered, shiftin’ Sable higher in my arms, feelin’ her breath shallow against my throat. Couldn’t set her down. Couldn’t risk her caught in the crossfire. My pistol came up instead, steady even with fire roarin’ through my chest.

Ash stepped in front of me, his knife loose in his grip, voice low but cuttin’ clear across the clearin’. “It’s over. Gabrial’s dead. Burned in his own flame. You don’t owe him anymore.”

One of the men sneered, spit flyin’ with his words. “The Prophet don’t die. He rises in fire. He lives in us.”

The others murmured after him, prayers rollin’ through their throats like curses.

I bared my teeth, raised my pistol higher. “Last warnin’. Step aside, or I’ll put you in the dirt where your Prophet can’t reach.”

The shotgun came up too fast.

I fired.

The man dropped, body jerkin’ back, the echo thunderin’ through the pines. The rest broke loose, knives flashin’, robes flyin’ as they charged.