“There will be no mercy.”
Cole’s breathing became harsher behind them. Each inhale sounded sharp and strained, and his body jerked as though the storm remained trapped beneath his skin and was attempting to tear its way free.
Dax immediately crouched beside him and steadied his shoulders.
“He is getting worse. We need something, or he is not going to survive this.”
Rhen’s jaw tightened.
Cole appeared to be consuming himself from within.
“Do you not have a female to occupy you?” Rhen asked.
Dax’s head snapped up.
“Give it a rest. This is not the time.”
Every use of Cole’s power took something from him. He did not simply control weather; he opened himself to it and allowed the elements to move through his body.
The debt had come due.
Standing over him would accomplish nothing.
The witch might.
Rhen turned and left the room without another word.
He moved through the corridor with his rage packed tightly beneath his skin. He wanted violence, but violence without purpose would not keep Cole alive.
The witch had appeared with impossible timing, wrapped in old magic and claiming ignorance.
Rhen did not believe in coincidence.
He opened the back-room door hard enough to shake the hinges.
The woman jerked in the chair, her eyes snapping toward him.
Wet hair remained plastered to her face and shoulders, and her dress still clung to her body. Another male might have seen temptation.
Rhen saw a threat.
Her breath caught beneath the weight of his stare. Fear moved visibly through her, but she did not look away.
“You are going to start talking,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know how I got here. I swear.”
“Bullshit.”
Rhen crossed the room and stopped directly before her.
“Witches do not appear inside protected territory by accident. Tell me what you know, or I will make you regret surviving the journey.”
She trembled, but remained seated.
Beneath the terror, something else flickered through her expression.
Familiarity.
