“Fine, have it your way,” Withers snarls, as he holds the silver blade to Jay’s heart.
Jay holds tightly to the image of his mates from last Christmas—laughter, warmth, and love etched in his mind’s eye.
But the sharp, piercing pain he’s bracing for never comes.
Instead, Withers’s shriek rips through the air, deafening and raw, as the cage of air dissipates with a crack.
Like an avenging angel, Nix has broken through Withers’s magic, tackling him to the ground—the impact sending them skidding across the stone floor.
In moments, Nix is kneeling on the edge of the altar, their bond burning hot with worry and love, his expression fierce as he pulls at the iron bonds holding Jay captive.
A small, triumphant smile plays at Jay’s mouth, despite the chaos around them.
“My hero,” Jay whispers, his voice hoarse but filled with affection.
Before he can say more, Nix kisses him hard enough that their teeth clack.
Pulling even harder at Jay’s arms, Nix keeps trying to free him, but it only makes the bonds tighten further.
Spinning, Nix growls, “Free him.”
Withers is on his feet, brushing himself off. “No can do. Do you like the nice little party trick I had set up for Carnell? The harder you struggle, the tighter they get. The iron is receptive to The Plain and can stand up to even an angry alpha. A guy has to be prepared. Now get out of my way.”
“Kick his ass, Nix,” Finn calls, his voice rough but undeniably coherent.
Relief washes over Jay—if Finn’s feeling good enough to throw out a quip, then Grayson’s healing must have worked, at least partially.
“I will gladly kick your ass, although it looks like someone already did. You have ten seconds to free him, or I will make you,” Nix says, his voice barely more than a growl.
“Make me?” Withers sneers, his laugh sharp and grating. “You’re hardly more than an annoyance. Now, get out of my way.”
He raises his hand, and the wind roars to life, a violent storm spiraling outward with feral intensity, but instead of hurling Nix back, it twists around him before dissipating harmlessly into the night.
Nix doesn’t flinch.
“That’s not very nice,” Nix says, crossing his arms, and while Withers might not notice, Jay can tell his omega is just as surprised that the magic has no impact.
“Is your magic defensive, then? How are you doing that?”
Nix says nothing, but shrugs.
Withers snarls. “No matter. Even the best shields break, eventually.”
A wave of searing heat surges toward Nix, one blast after another, glowing and ferocious. But each one fizzles out inches before it can reach him, leaving nothing but smoke in the air.
Nix tilts his head. “Was that supposed to hurt?”
“How are you doing it?!” Withers screeches, his composure crumbling.
The more frustrated Withers gets, the more Jay risks testing his bonds. If Withers’s focus wavers, maybe the magic holding the alpha iron will, too. Every twist of his wrists sends a searing ache up his arms, but he keeps at it, his persistence fueled by equal parts determination and fury. The bonds might be strong, but they’re no match for an enigma’s persistence—or fury.
With a last surge of effort, his bonds come free.
Keeping his movements slow and deliberate to avoid drawing Withers’s attention, Jay works the restraints loose. One by one, the bonds fall away, until his legs and feet are free too.
When the blaze of Withers’s fire magic shifts into a volley of jagged ice, Jay sees his opening. The crashing storm of a thousand icicles shatters uselessly against the stone, deafening and chaotic—just enough cover. He rolls off the altar, landing in a low crouch behind it.
Nix is already facing off with Withers, braced and battle-ready, radiating a calm that steals Jay’s breath.
