Page 29

The images crashed violently together, blending, swirling, folding into each other—a vortex of pain and suffering that overwhelmed me, dragged me beneath its dark waters, drowning me in Lexa’s agony.

I tried to scream, but I had no voice. I tried to escape, but there was no way out. And then, mercifully, everything shattered to blackness.

I reached for her blindly in the dark, fingers seeking the familiar warmth of her skin. I wanted—needed—to feel her heartbeat, steady beneath my palm. Needed the reassurance that she was safe, breathing, here beside me.

But the instant my fingertips brushed her shoulder, something felt wrong.

Cold.

She shouldn’t be cold.

“Lexa?” I whispered softly, nudging her gently. She didn't move. Didn't even stir. A hollow dread coiled deep in my gut, stealing my breath.

“Lexa,” I said again, voice sharper now, panic rising swiftly in my chest. She still didn’t answer. Her breathing was barely there—shallow, uneven. Wrong.

I sat up fast, heart hammering wildly in my chest. I pulled back the furs, desperate hands searching her skin, touching her cheek, her throat—too cold. The bond was quiet, frighteningly still. Where her wolf had once been warm and alive, there was nothing. Silence.

I turned her over carefully, hands shaking, heart sinking lower.

In the dim glow of fading firelight, the last rune across her back glowed faintly, flickering with sickly, pulsing magic, the dark lines trembling dangerously.

She’d warned me, told me what would happen if they all broke too fast, if she wasn’t ready.

I'd dismissed it then as the delirious threats of someone drowning in dark magic and fear.

I was wrong.

Gods, I was so fucking wrong.

Panic surged, violent and immediate. All those memories—her suffering, her pain—they hadn’t come randomly through the bond. They weren't dreams. They were her fucking life, flashing before my eyes because she was slipping away.

Because she was dying.

“No,” I growled, voice ragged with terror and fury. “No, you don't get to fucking leave me. Lexa, wake up. Open your eyes!”

She didn't.

My wolf roared awake within me, clawing violently at my chest, howling with rage. I stumbled from the bed, barely aware of pulling on clothes, hands trembling so badly I could hardly manage it.

I tore open the door, voice thundering through the outpost like the wrath of every god ever worshipped. “Wake the fuck up! All of you! Now!”

Doors slammed open, startled voices rising from sleep. Garrick appeared, half-dressed, face pale with confusion and sudden fear.

“Andros, what—?”

“Lexa's... she,” I snarled, barely holding back the flood of panic burning my throat. “The runes—she warned me. Gods fucking damn it, she warned me. We have to get her back to the citadel now. Get a carriage, blankets, horses. I want every fucking healer awake by the time we arrive. Go!”

No one dared hesitate. Garrick shouted orders, men scrambled in panic-driven obedience. Chaos erupted around me, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the fading heartbeat of the woman lying motionless in my bed, fighting for her life.

I returned to her side, lifted her gently into my arms. She was limp, cold, heavy with silence. My heart hammered in sheer terror as I carried her toward the door.

“You're not leaving,” I whispered fiercely against her skin. “Not like this. Not now. I won't fucking allow it.”

I stepped out into the cold dawn, holding Lexa’s silent, failing body tight against my chest, feeling like the world was cracking beneath my feet.

And for the first time in years, I prayed to whatever gods would listen. Please, don't take her now—not when I've just found her.

The storm had finally died, dawn breaking over the snow-dusted peaks like a breath held too long finally exhaled. The sun rose slow and golden, casting long beams of light across the quiet landscape. It should have felt peaceful. But my soul was anything but.

I cradled Lexa in my arms, her body limp and cold against my chest, wrapped in every blanket we had left. Her breathing was shallow, her skin like ice, the last rune on her back pulsing with sick, fragile light.

I barked the order before the outpost gates were even behind us. “Ride ahead. The fastest horse. Tell them she’s coming. Every healer, every fire lit—I want the room ready when we arrive.”

One of the soldiers rode hard into the rising sun, vanishing down the ridge trail toward the citadel.

Inside the carriage, it was too quiet. Garrick sat across from me, watching with barely concealed worry, but said nothing at first. He didn’t need to. Everything was written in the way he looked at her.

“She’ll fight,” he finally murmured, trying to offer something like comfort. “She’s stronger than—”

“She told me this would happen.” My voice was low, frayed. “She warned me. And I brushed it off.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should have.” My fingers curled tighter around her. “I should’ve listened.”

The journey back was a blur of snow and fire and the frantic beat of my own heart. When we reached the citadel, the gates opened in seconds. The healers were already waiting, the guards parting like water as I leapt from the carriage with Lexa still in my arms.

“To my chambers,” I shouted, voice booming. “Now. Stoke the fires. Boil water. I want her warm before another minute passes. If she dies—” My voice cracked. “—I will hold every one of you responsible.”

The healers scattered, moving quickly, lifting her from my arms with reverence, as if afraid she might shatter. I turned to follow them when something caught my eye—movement in the shadows just beyond the entryway. A small figure, barely more than a blur.

I stopped cold.

Dain.

He stood tucked between two pillars, eyes wide and glistening, face pale and streaked with tears. His little fists were clenched, his bottom lip trembling.

He’d heard everything. He’d seen.

I crossed to him in three strides and crouched down, my voice raw. “Dain.”

He looked up, lip quivering. “Is she… is Lexa going to die?”

The words felt like a blade through the ribs. I reached out slowly, pulling him against me, his tiny arms latching around my neck like he was afraid I’d vanish too. I held him tight.

“You're not leaving,” I whispered into that broken bond, to the unconscious woman being rushed down the hall. The words were broken, furious, begging. “ You hear me, Lexa? You’re not fucking leaving me. Not now.”

Dain’s head pressed against my shoulder, silent and trembling, and I clutched him tighter.