“You’re going to help us now,” Zane says, moving toward Astra’s prone form. She’s still on the ground, still motionless. Still unconscious. “You’re going to be our weapon. Our perfect tool. And when the time comes—”
I move. It’s my decision this time. Mine. Not whatever force was controlling me.
My hand shoots out, grabbing Zane’s wrist before he can reach Astra. My fingers dig into his skin hard enough to bruise.
His eyes widen. “What—”
“Get. Away. From. Her.” The words tear from my throat, rough and raw. My voice. My control.
Zane jerks back, genuine shock crossing his face. “How are you—”
I don’t let him finish. I twist his arm hard, forcing him to drop the glass shard. It clatters to the floor.
Then, I push.
He stumbles backward, off-balance, crashing into the side table. The decanter tips, falls, shatters. Wine spills across the floor like so much blood.
“You bitch!” Zane’s composure cracks completely. His face contorts with rage. “How did you break free?”
I don’t answer. Can’t waste the breath. I’m still fighting for every second of control, still pushing against the chains trying to drag me back under.
The mate bond burns brighter. Seth is so near now. I can almost feel him, almost smell him.
Hold on, I think desperately. Just hold on a little longer.
Zane lunges at me. Fast. Faster than anyone should be able to move.
But somehow, I’m faster.
I sidestep, my body finally responding the way it is supposed to. My claws extend—this time because I called them—and I slash across his chest.
He roars, stumbling back again.
“You’re going to regret this,” he snarls. “My master will make you suffer. He’ll make youbeg for death.”
“Let him try.”
The words come out stronger than I feel. Because the truth is, I’m terrified. The chains are still there, still pulling at me. I don’t know how long I can hold them off.
But I’ll die fighting before I let them take me again.
As Zane inspects his wound, I see Astra move.
Just slightly. Just enough. Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine for the briefest moment.
She’s awake. She’s aware.
And she’s ready.
I don’t see the movement coming until it’s already happening.
Astra launches herself at Zane with a feral scream, her hands reaching for his throat. I follow, my claws extended, aiming for his face.
My claws connect. Sink into flesh.
But something’s wrong.
The resistance isn’t right. It’s too soft, too yielding. Like pressing into rotten fruit. My claws catch on something, and when I pull back, chunks of skin come with them.
