Page 159 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

He shoved himself between us, his own split lip and swelling cheekbone screaming for attention. His burning sapphire eyes locked onto mine like I was the threat now. Behind him, Portia and Orion were hauling Nix backward, the traitor still grinning through his bloody mouth.

Crossing the river was bad enough. But entering Reyna’s estate? Taking her son?

He’d lost his damn mind.

When Carr was sure I was focused, he snapped, “Enough!”

Calypso slid between us before I could move again, her wide eyes scanning my face. Then she cupped it gently. “Cyrus. Stand down.”

I wrenched away from whoever was behind me, chest heaving, breath ragged. I pointed straight at Nix. “You have no idea who you just fucking unleashed, cousin.”

“Can’t be afraid of ghosts in the South,” he shot back.

“She’s not a ghost, dammit—she’s a fucking nightmare. And she spared me last time, not the other way around. Legends don’t grow out of thin air—they’re the stories told by the sons of bitches lucky enough to survive them.”

“Keep your dick in your pants.”

“You’ll be lucky if she leaves yours on your body once she finds out it was you who took him.”

“When’d you become such a pussy you’re afraid of a little girl?”

“When I read about the massacre at Dunvallach in sixth fuckin’ grade, you nimrod.”

Calypso visibly paled. Carr’s expression twisted into something between fear and intrigue.

“And the thief of Bellpost. The haunting of Carroway. The Pinebarrow fires. No hierarchy’s ever wronged the Wraith and walked away clean. Now we’ve got a masked man willing to trade high-level intel just to keep her alive—and you think she’s a fuckin’ campfire story?”

To stop myself from throwing another punch, I turned, pacing toward my healer as she hovered over Blaz Gwyne’s unconscious form.

My baby cousin.

Nineteen. Not even ascended—and he still drew blood before Nix cracked his skull.

Fucking stars.

Fucking retrograde.

Fucking family.

My voice finally leveled as pain registered like a delayed slap. “You just wrote a check the entire hierarchy can’t cash, Nix. And mark my words—we’ll hold you accountable when the dust settles.”

As if summoned by fate, the alarm blared. I scoffed, pulling my mask from my back pocket as everyone else did the same.

“You better pray Calypso makes it out of this,” I told Nix, “or your precious queen will spike your head to the gate for good measure.”

Shouts echoed through the Manor foyer as I bowed my head and steadied my breathing.

When they came through that door, I couldn’t be Cyrus. Couldn’t hand over Nix and hope they’d call it even. Not now. Not after Paladin blood hit the floor.

They couldn’t see the cracks in our walls. The Wings had to appear unified. Which meant I had to become the monster my title demanded.

Growling, I turned back toward my baby cousin just as all hell broke loose.

I’d just heaved Blaz off the couch—held him in my arms like an oversized infant—when my worst personal demon rounded the corner, dressed in a full Paladin tac suit and hooded cloak. Each hand gripped a gore-soaked blade. Wakizashi, maybe.

But it wasn’t the blades that caught me. Not the gore. Not even the red Paladin battle stripes painted across her eyes.

It was the stance. The stillness. The tilt of her head like she was listening forward and back at once. And the eyes⁠—