Page 95 of She Who Was Severed

The Chain shifts under my ribs. Just once.

Not a pull.

A warning.

I turn, too late.

They drop from the rooftops in formation—four figures, silent and efficient. No colors. No shouts. Runes already sparking across their chests. Suppression-grade. Council-trained.

I stay still.

The Chain stays quiet.

One steps forward. Not aggressive. Just confident. His voice is even. “Freya Thorne. You are ordered into custody under Virelle Council sanction. Clearance signed by the Torvannen heir.”

My stomach drops before I hear the rest.

Kellen.

His name lands harder than the threat. I don’t blink. Don’t breathe.

The Chain doesn’t lash.

It freezes.

A beat passes. Then the heat begins—slow, precise, deliberate. It starts just beneath the sternum, where the Chain roots deepest. Spreads through my spine. Every joint feels tight. Every heartbeat sharper.

The man lifts the scroll.

The seal glints gold.

Torvannen crest. Kellen’s mark.

His real mark. Not forged. Not fabricated.

I don’t speak.

Because if I speak, I’ll tear something open I can’t close again.

They think I’m hesitating.

One steps closer, palm raised. “Peaceful retrieval is possible.”

Peaceful. Nothing peaceful about what I’ll do to him.

He used me.

Or betrayed me.

I don’t know which is worse.

The air folds.

The Chain doesn’t flare. It chooses.

And the one nearest me vanishes backward like someone pulled the world out from under him. He hits the stone wall hard enough to crack it. His body doesn’t bounce. Doesn’t scream. Jaw’s already shattered.

Three left.