Rage bursts through my lungs, wild and clawing, roaring with every pull of air because the most beautiful scent in the world is corrupted, mottled by fear and despair, tasting burnt.
If someone hurt her?—
I cut off my brain to inhale deeply. The scent is fresh. And it leads farther into the dark.
To those damned figures.
An icy realization hardens within me because those alphas are definitely not the queen’s guard. They’d never put a hand on the royals.
Whoever they are, they’re breathing their last breaths.
Without hesitation, I start to run, thighs straining against these stupid dress pants. Shoes sliding on the marble floor. I don’t let my mind finish a single thought because every single one flashes a nightmarish conclusion—Brylee’s lifeless face, lashes wide and eyes flat—one I can’t bear.
Won’t.
I will get to Brylee.
I will save her.
And then I will unleash hell upon those who took her.
They’ll wish for the devil by the time I’m done.
That singular purpose drives me as I hurtle forward, not even using my useless eyes in the pitch-black hall, only following that tragic, unmistakable scent.
I reach a curved tower at the end of the hall and realize they went down a set of spiral stairs that plunge beneath the ground into a parking garage used by faculty and delivery personnel.
My fists curl as I fly down the steps, hardly touching them.
I smash through the steel door at the bottom, uncaring that it slams into the wall, that the sound echoes through the lot.
All that matters is that I get to her.
My legs pump as I sprint forward between two sleek cars, and the sound of peeling tires screeches through the lot from somewhere ahead. Bolting up the exit ramp, the smell of burnt rubber flaring up my nose, I see a dark van smashing through the barricade, careening out onto the street, and turning right.
The passenger window is rolled down, and a man’s arm is braced on it, gripping the roof. On his arm band is the damning dragon insignia of Nóthos.
Fucking hell.
The reality of the situation smashes through me until I feel as shattered as that barrier.
Our enemies have Brylee.
I run harder. Faster. Push myself to the limit as I race up to street level and hurtle over the broken arm of the barricade.
But by the time I reach the sidewalk, the van is gone.
Inside it is my entire future.
My mate.
The mother of my unborn children.
I stop running, lungs burning as I take breath after breath, trying to force my brutish system to calm. Trying to cool the red-hot fire burning through me that tells me to keep chasing. To hunt.
But I need to be smart right now if I’m going to save her.
I need a vehicle. My team. And a whole lot of weapons.
