Page 164 of Bound By Fury

“Don’t even think about it, boy,” Alastair hisses.

“Harper, I always knew you were stronger than people gave you credit for,” Alastair says to me. “Such an impressive witch. Nearly as impressive as the heir.”

Gigi’s words come to me from the dream. You must find the fated heir.

“Come,” he says, curling his hand toward us. “There’s only one way out of here alive, and it’s not the hallway.

“Remember what I told you, Harper. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I grab on to the bottom of Malachi’s shirt for leverage as I stand, my knees buckling once again.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I fist the fabric at his waist in an effort to stay upright.

Panic blooms in my chest when I realize I don’t have a free hand for my magic, so I tuck the blade into the waistband of my pants.

“I’ll handle him,” Malachi says through the side of his mouth. “If they attack, get behind me.”

I shake my head. “I can fight for myself.”

“It’s unfortunate it’s come to this,” Alastair says as we round the corner. “Kai, I didn’t want to believe it when he said you were lying to me. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Thankfully, I’ve come prepared for anything. You will see the light, son. You will cooperate by night’s end.”

My stomach sinks as I turn down the aisle.

His voice hits me before my eyes have the chance to adjust to the large room.

“Hello, little witch.” I whip my head toward the corner to find the raven-faced stranger from the hedge maze. So curious that they’re in a mask and cloak when Alastair is not.

At their feet is a squirming body on its knees, arms restrained behind their back. Dressed in a heavy, white robe with a red sack over their head.

“Lucas?” I push away from Malachi and move without thinking, the rest of the world falling away. “What have you done to him?!”

“Oh, Harper,” Alastair calls from behind me. “Open your eyes, poor, sweet girl.”

“No!” The word bounces off the stained-glass windows. “Let go of him!”

“Harper, stop!” Malachi yells, his footsteps thundering behind me.

I collide with the cloaked figure, and their hands slip from Lucas’s kneeling form. We roll and they grunt as they throw me to the floor. On my way down I hook my fingers beneath the edge of the mask and pull.

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” the figure murmurs.

My heart freezes in my throat.

Baby-blue eyes. Midnight curls framing light brown skin. Dimples flattened on either side of full pink lips.

Lucas.

FIFTY-FIVE

I STARE, SPEECHLESS, AT HIS towering form. My eyes skate over him hungrily, searching for injury, for answers, for proof that I’m imagining this.

“This isn’t—you can’t—you’re not—”

“Get up, Harper.” Lucas’s voice is a death knell.

I scramble backward, my eyes frantically bouncing between Lucas and the wriggling body.

“B-but if you’re… then who the hell is that?” I point a shaking finger.