Page 250 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Adrastos.” My hand lashed out for him. He braced himself on Barry and forced his body upright, one hand rising to his neck. I searched his rapidly blinking eyes as he fought for air. “What happened?”

“My… fuck,” he grunted, fighting for each word. Then one more, agony sharpening his stare. “Moros.”

Understanding flashed across his face, and then he was gone in a swirl of shadow, his cousin with him.

I was left with Alvara as she softly breathed, “I see wings.”

FORTY-NINE

RULES FOR THE LIVING

AUGUST

The last thing I thought as Moros’ eyes widened was so fucking be it.

If it took my life to end his—if this was my one shot to take the third Horseman off the goddamn board—so fucking be it.

The others would finish it.

With a roar, we were falling.

My magic was gone. Drained by that damn bullet.

Every movement screamed as gravity hurled us end over end. Me trying to break free. Him grappling for purchase.

The fucker couldn’t jump without taking me with him. Couldn’t use his shadows in broad daylight. That, or the serum worked on the bastard it came from.

So, to hell we’d damned each other.

Freya’s terror tore down the bond. The only thing I could do—anything that might give Cyrus something to grab—was put distance between us.

Yelling.

The demon was yelling as my hands crushed against his skull.

As I jammed my fingers into his eyes. Twisted away from his hands when they reached for mine.

Screaming.

Him.

Me.

The terror down the line.

There wasn’t time to know which scream belonged to whom.

The rocks were right there. Right below us.

An enormous shadow spread overhead, darkness crossing Moros’ livid face as his eyes went wide.

I tucked my knees up, boots finding purchase against his armor.

I shoved with everything I had. His hold finally snapped like a band pulled too taut. Arms thrown wide, I tried to jump—but there was no magic.

The crunch of Moros hitting stone and rapids was the last thing I heard before something jerked me upward, my head snapping with the force.

Too late. Our momentum was too great.