But he stops suddenly. Inches away from me.
Frozen, hand poised to strike — his muscles twitching slightly, like something is holding him back.
Between us, a faint shimmer flickers into existence. A thin, almost invisible shield, woven from strands of blue light.
Magic. Not the witch’s.
Sin grabs my shoulder and squeezes hard.
“We have to go, Kass. Now,” he says, low and urgent.
His other hand is stretched in front of him, feeding more of his magic into the shield separating us from Draven.
“His eyes, Kass,” Neris whispers inside me. “Look.”
I look — and almost collapse. She’s right. Draven’s eyes aren’t hollow anymore. They’re haunted. Bleeding agony, screaming pain. So much pain I feel it like claws dragging across my heart.
Without thinking, I reach out. I just want to touch him. Even if it’s for the last time.
“Don’t.” His voice — raw, broken — cuts straight through me.
My hand freezes midair. Tears pour down my cheeks, hot and helpless.
“You have to kill me, Kass,” he rasps, every word a wound. “Now. It’s the only way. Please. I need you safe. I tried. I can’t break through. Not enough. Draxis knew. The mark on my chest—” His voice splinters into a desperate, tortured sound. “Please, Kass.”
“No,” my voice sounds stronger than I feel. “You’re mine. You’re not hers. You don’t belong to her. You don’t belong to anyone but me. You and Draxis — you’re mine.”
He flinches like my words physically hit him.
He turns to Sin, eyes pleading. “Sin, you do—”
Before he can finish, his head jerks back and a choked, feral noise escapes him. The leash tightens mercilessly.
“Sinalyn!” The witch’s voice lashes out.
From the far end of the hall, a young woman steps into view. Dark hair limp around her face. Shoulders bowed. Moving like each step hurts.
She passes Amira’s still unconscious wolf form without a glance. Stops beside the witch. Offers her arm, silent and resigned.
The witch grabs her like a vulture ripping into a corpse, nails digging so deep that blood beads instantly.
The girl — Sinalyn — lifts her head.
Our eyes meet. There’s pity in hers. Real pity. She mouths two words:I’m sorry.
And then the witch starts chanting. Soft red light coils around Sinalyn like a noose. A glowing sigil burns into her forehead.
My heart skids and crashes into my ribs.
“She’s channeling her,” I breathe. “She’s boosting herself—”
I whip toward Sin. “We need to go. Now!”
But he’s not moving. Not even blinking.
He’s staring at Sinalyn like she’s the only thing he can see.
“Sin?” I shake his arm hard. “Sin, come on—”
