Page 368 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

AREN

A blur. The world had reduced to a blur of chaos and color. Someone had sliced apart and peeled away the blood-soaked clothes clinging to Magnolia’s skin.

Hers.

His.

A black, viscous liquid that could only be demon ichor.

My eyes burned, hands shaking as I clung to her limp, pale fingers—curling them around mine, clutching them like a lifeline. Unable to breathe. Unable to move. Unable to think.

My mate had been sleeping with my enemy.

Loved him—clearly.

Bonded...to him.

Her Guardian.

Unblinking, I watched four sets of fast-moving hands cleanse her wounds with dishtowels—the same ones she’d used beneath that unholy dinner. Was that last night?

Blood. So much blood.

Mags. My Mags. Torn apart. At least, judging by Saraya’s wince as she turned her onto her side, more blood spilling—fresh and red and reeking of iron.

The room spun. I leaned back just as Freya came into view, her pained jade eyes flicking to mine as some distant part of my brain recognized she was speaking to me.

I couldn’t hear the words over the roar in my ears. All I could do was beg—silently, desperately—that God take me instead.

“Big guy, I need you to move,” Freya said gently. “Ally called for Nat and the girls, but they’re not answering. We need her. Sar can’t do this—certainly not both of them.”

“Both?” I echoed distantly. The word sounded foreign in my own mouth, and I blinked at the Wraith. “No.”

No? No, I wouldn’t move? No, I wouldn’t leave her? No, we couldn’t save both?

But why? Why would we even try? Whatever Mags had said—whatever she’d begged—didn’t absolve our enemy of his crimes.

Someone said my name. Or maybe it was the sharp crack of Lana’s palm against my cheek that finally snapped my mind from the fog suffocating me.

“Aren!” she barked. I blinked at her, then back down at Magnolia’s battered face.

“Get Nathara,” she said.

“I don’t understand,” came Saraya’s soft voice. Stray locks of auburn framed her face as she frowned. “There’s a barrier, Aren. It’s not just her lifeline—it’s like she’s tethered…”

My fingers absentmindedly traced the length of her arm, stopping at the brand woven between her tattoos. My thumb stroked over the rune for life, nestled between two others.

“Baby, what did you do?” I whispered.

“She’s Bound to him?” Lana’s serpentine hiss cut through the static. I nodded, and Saraya’s eyes widened. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the doorway. Toward the bastard now writhing on the sidewalk.

“Bound how?” she demanded. “It’s like a shadow. It’s sentient. Fighting me.”

“I…I don’t know. She only told me about it last night. Just before she ran.” To keep me from chasing her.

God, I should’ve chased her.

Giving her space had been the wrong choice.