Page 167 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Don’t miss the finale!”

THIRTY-THREE

BLESS YOUR HEART

FREYA

A familiar, fiery pain tore through my shoulders, arms aching, back spasming as I blinked into the warehouse—dimly lit, just enough for shadows to thrive. But none stirred in my veins. For that matter…no sign of magic stirred anywhere.

Well, fuck.

The cool sweep of fan-driven air hit my now-bare face, the fabric mask drooped around my neck like a scarf.

Double fuck.

They knew my face. My name wouldn’t be far behind—if he hadn’t already recognized me.

It was a fight to breathe—lungs constricted, ribs screaming with bruises. I looked up at the chains they’d used to suspend me, bare toes pressing uselessly against chilled concrete. Not enough slack to lift the weight from my wrists. But the chains were thin enough that I smirked.

The best thing about this new body? Everyone underestimated it.

“That’s gonna leave a bruise,” I muttered, blinking up at my bleeding skin and wincing at the rusted shackle.

“You’re awake. What a joy.”

That southern lilt—I’d heard it before. Less swagger when I’d had their man pinned by the throat.

The woman from earlier. Calypso.

Her hooded, masked face was suddenly inches from mine, hazel-brown eyes flicking over my features as she raised a water bottle with a straw to my lips.

I jerked my head away.

“No more of your poison, witch.”

“Just water.” Through my periphery, I caught her raising a hand like she was swearing an oath.

Fatigue pulled at my eyelids like an anvil, every inch of me aching like I’d been hit by a bus. A metal door clanged open, the rubber soles of boots echoing through the space.

Calypso’s gaze sharpened. “Come on, be a good girl, and maybe he’ll let you down.”

“Fuck. You,” I growled.

“You’re a charmer, aren’t you?” she said. When I didn’t answer, she shrugged. “Well, by all means, just hang around until he’s back.”

Har. Dee-har. Har.

I had no idea how long I’d been there. My arms were long past numb. The pain in my back had melted into full-body tingling. Every breath crushed my lungs a little more.

There was a plan forming in my head. Problem was, I was unarmed, outnumbered, and magicless.

Being without it was worse than standing naked under a spotlight.

Which wasn’t far from the truth—these fuckers had stripped my cloak and weapons. An empty tac suit was about as helpful as a wet napkin. They’d even taken my boots and the blades hidden in them.

Though she’d tired of my incessant questions, Calypso hadn’t moved from the couch in what felt like hours. Feet up, flipping through a fucking newspaper like we weren’t playing a high-stakes game of cat and mouse.

“Who the hell reads a paper these days?” I asked as the chains rotated me in a slow, creaking spin.