“Elira,” Vael murmured, like he was tasting something holy. “I missed you so much. I dreamed of holding you again. Did you dream of me?”
His voice was soft. Loving. Deranged.
“I knew,” he whispered, “one day you’d return to me.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I clutched my ears, trying to block him out, to block everything out. I looked up—and saw it.
That same godsdamned devotion glowing in his red eyes. The kind that didn’t bend, didn’t break. The kind that destroyed.
He’s unhinged.
“Please…” I sobbed. “Please…” I didn’t even know what I was begging for—mercy, release, oblivion.
“The things I did to find you,” he said. “Six years. Six years of silence after that snivelling, broken shifter stole you from me.”
A metallic click echoed through the corridor. The door next to mine creaked open.
“NO!” Finn’s voice cracked, raw and terrified.
“Leave him alone!” I screamed, flinging myself at the bars. They rattled under my grip, the iron biting into my palms. “Don’t touch him!”
I heard the scuffle. The choking sound of limbs flailing. Finn gasped—and then it stopped.
Vael held him aloft by the throat, as effortlessly as if he were lifting a doll. His expression was serene, almost reverent, like this was a prayer.
“Stop! Please!” I screamed, shadows flaring in all directions, crackling with my panic.
Finn’s legs kicked weakly. His fingers scrabbled at Vael’s wrist. Then—his voice cut off. His limbs sagged.
“Let him go!” I sobbed, slamming against the bars so hard they rattled like bones.
A door further up the hall burst open. Heavy footsteps pounded toward us—several of them. Soldiers. I heard the unmistakable click of boots on stone, measured and controlled.
Mother.
“Enough,Vael!” Her voice sliced through the chaos like a blade. “That boy belongs tome!”
Vael didn’t drop Finn. Not yet. Instead, he turned toward the sound of her voice and hissed—low and feral. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even animal. It was ancient. Wrong.
The soldiers slowed. One of them cursed under his breath.
I pressed my face to the bars, heart thundering. Finn still hadn’t moved.
Vael’s red eyes gleamed in the dark, still locked on Mother. He bared his teeth, unblinking.
“Do not forget, Mara,” he said softly, voice laced with venom, “he is only breathing becauseIallow it.”
“He is mine by right, Vael,” Mother said coldly. “And you will leave my prisoners alone.”
“Fornow,” Vael hissed.
He let out a guttural growl and turned, his cloak flaring behind him as he stormed down the corridor. The air shifted in his wake—like even the shadows were relieved to see him go.
For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was a collective exhale.
I scrambled to the grate between our cells, heart pounding, and shoved my hands through.
“Finn,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Grab my hand. Now.”
