Aran had told me to use the pain.
I hadn’t wanted to. I’d wanted to bury all of my memories, bury them deep and never look back. But when it mattered most, I couldn’t use my magic.
So I gave in.
I let myselffeel.
And it all came back to me.
I saw Einar, bloody and lifeless in the street. I saw my mother and father slaughtered and discarded like trash. I thought of Arche’s smile as he defiled me, of the other soldiers taking what remained. I remembered what it felt like to be torn apart piece by piece. And I let it fuel me, all the grief, and the shame, and the rage. I let it burn through my chest like acid, let it scorch my mind until there was nothing left but fire. I pushed myself harder than I ever had, and it hurt. Mentally, physically, it was agonizing.
I thought of the robbers. The man who hurt Kalani. The man who sold Licia. I imagined them screaming, burning. I imagined killing every last one of them.
Then it came—the heat.
My fingers twitched. A flicker at first. Then more. Fiercer. Wilder. I opened my eyes and stared at him, the man in the suit. I didn’t know his name, but I didn’t need to know his name to kill him.
The ropes around my wrists caught as fire surged. Pain ripped up my arms like lightning through bone. I screamed as the ropes turned to ash, crumbling away in a storm of smoke and heat. The skin beneath was blistered, raw, searing. It felt like my nerves were peeling off. Like my body was splitting open from the inside.
I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t stop screaming.
"What the fuck?" one of the guards shouted.
I twisted my head just in time to see flames climbing the curtains behind me. The fire swallowed the fabric, casting leaping shadows across the wall. Then I lunged for the desk, my fingers closing around a golden letter opener.
Will was already struggling, trying to sit up, wrists still bound tight. I dropped beside him and started sawing at the ropes. My hands shook so badly the blade slipped more than once, slicing my skin, but I didn’t stop. Every movement sent a fresh wave of pain screaming up my arms. I gritted my teeth and kept cutting until the last strand snapped.
Will slumped forward, coughing hard, sucking in a broken breath.
“You okay?” he croaked.
“Here. Take it.” I shoved the blade into his hand. “Help Aran.”
I didn’t wait for an answer.
I couldn’t.
Behind me, the fire was growing louder, the heat pressing against my back. The man in the suit looked around, like he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing. The fire had taken the walls. The ceiling. The smoke was pouring in thick and black, curling around his expensive shoes.
Then his gaze snapped to me, only for a second, before shifting to Licia. That was all it took.
He made his choice.
He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up, her feet barely held her, as her head lolled against his chest. He hauled her upright, dragging her in front of him like a shield, her body a barrier between him and me. He started for the door, and just before vanishing into the hallway, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Take care of it,” he ordered the guards.
Then he disappeared, Licia’s feet scraping uselessly against the floor as he dragged her away.
“No! No, no, no—DON’T TAKE HER!” The scream shredded my throat. It tore straight out of me, wild and broken.
A guard lunged, and reacting on instinct, my fist cracked against his jaw. I felt the give beneath my knuckles, the crunch of something breaking. Another guard slammed into me from the side. We crashed to the floor, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.
Still, I fought. Kicking. Scratching. Thrashing. But everything blurred—the smoke, the pain, the heat surging beneath my skin. Then the third one caught me. His hands clamped down on my arms and flung me backward. My body slammed into a bookshelf, blinding flash of white split my vision as pain detonated in my skull.
His forearm crushed my throat.
But I could feel his heartbeat, beating hard and fast. If I could just reach it. If I could find that part of me that knew how.
