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Focus. She wasn’t leaving without what the fury had taken.

Tisiphone felt it. Refused it. Drew a thick breath, her trembling chest rising.

At first, no sound came out. Too high to hear.

Then it ripped into her mind.

Vibrated the air.

The windows shook, vibrating, until they hummed in rhythm with Tisiphone’s demonic cry.

Vann held her steady from behind. Buried his face into her. “I love you.”

Eryn nuzzled close and said it back. Again and again.

Louder. Higher.

The resonance shattered the windows.

Glass rained down into the room.

Tisiphone raged and ripped out of Eryn’s arms with renewed vigor. Hand braced over her wounds, Tisiphone’s wings extended from behind her bare shoulders. Unfolding from her human façade. Rising, she sneered with joyful malice. Blood trailed down her middle, but she refused to show weakness.

A glorious moment for the fury, even pale and bleeding—or perhaps more so because of her bloody wounds—she looked every bit an angel of death.

Eryn lifted Vann’s sword off the ground. There was no way she could reach Tisiphone. Not in the air.

Shadows covered the moon and the outdoor lights. The feathered wings of a dozen women lifted. Weapons held high. Her sisters blocked the windows. The door.

Vann stood tall at Eryn’s side. The hunter, in furious form and thirsty for a fight.

Eryn held up the hilt of the sword.

He took the sword and rotated it; a violent weapon graceful in his hands.

A blade sliced through the air from the kitchen. Adair’s knife embedded into Tisiphone’s wing. “Now can we kill her? I cannot stand an immortal thinking herself invulnerable.”

Tisiphone faltered, drifting a shocked, sad look at her injured wing. “If I die, she dies.”

Blayk sniffed and sighed with a satisfied smile. “Can I at least have a taste?”

“No.” Adair drove an elbow into the vampire’s side. “I told you to feed first.”

He pouted and flicked his sword in the light.

Eryn fired a snarl back at the fury. “Apparently, fate says I’m going to die tonight. The others are free. That’s what matters.”

“I mean, we can torture her until she gives your soul back,” Lana said helpfully as she grasped her axe and moved closer to the isolated fury.

Bennett adjusted his shield and moved into position, the hunters surrounding the fury while she searched for an escape. He flicked an unimpressed look up at Tisiphone. “No offense or anything, but you’re a fruit fly compared to Tromos.”

Tisiphone faltered and flapped her injured wing harder to stay in the air.

“Typha was way tougher than Tromos,” Ryan snorted, and rolled his shoulders, his dark blade at his side.

Quinn flicked her twin swords and flashed a snarky smile at the demon. “Typha had that whole hydra thing going on. And that veil prison. This bitch is a peon.”

Doubt rattled Tisiphone’s arrogant expression.