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“Blair, don’t—” I move toward her, and it’s the first time in longer than I can remember that my body has moved faster than my thinking.

She looks up at me one last time, eyes fierce and not even fucking apologetic, then she lights it. And not only that—she throws the sticks my way.

I back up, boots scrambling on a floor that suddenly feels like it’s dissolving under me. My pulse is a fist against my ribs. Every survival instinct I’ve spent years perfecting as a Legion commander falls apart.

Three… two…

BOOM.

Fire erupts across the room, a wall of heat and light slamming into me first. The sound arrives a half-second later. The blast throws me backward, and I hit the wall, a sharp crack from my chest causing me to gasp.

Smoke rolls in thick, oily, choking. My ears scream with a ringing that swallows everything else.

I can’t breathe.

Through the haze, I see her.

Blair stands a few feet away, a gun raised, face streaked with soot and blood. Our eyes meet through the rubble and smoke.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and the sound is something holy, like an angel calling me home.

And she pulls the trigger.

A blinding jolt rips through my chest, then radiates through my entire being, white-hot and all-consuming. I’m… shot. I’ve never been shot in my life, not even the toughest men in the Legion had the balls to. And she had them.

The world is starting to disappear before me.

The last thing I see is Blair running.

Disappearing into the smoke.

Gone.

As I choke on my own blood, warm crimson spilling over my lips and down my chin, there’s only one thought left in my head.

I wish it were hers I was tasting for the last time instead.

20

Blair

My boots slam against the old floorboards as I tear through the halls of Ashvale Manor, lungs wheezing and burning. Smoke from the explosion chases me down the hallway, but it’s not the worst thing hunting me right now.

“My son!” Her shrill voice cracks through the corridors, shaking the very foundation of the house. “You little bitch, you killed my son!”

Keep looking forward. Keep looking forward.

I made it this far. I will not be the dumbass in the horror movie who looks back and trips.

“You did this!” The echoes of her screams chase me around every corner, every impossibly long hallway, moving faster than something without a body should be able to. “You took him from meeeEEEE!”

Finally. Fucking finally. A back door is just ahead, like a bright light at the end of the tunnel. I can’t believe a house this big has so few exits to the outside. Or maybe that’s on purpose.

Shit. The doorknob doesn’t turn. It seems wedged and warped into the frame, making the door stick. This door probably hasn’t been opened in years.

Panic spikes so hard my vision goes black and spotty. Or maybe that’s the loss of blood over the course of the night. Either way, she’s gaining on me, and I need to move—fast.

I hurl myself against the door, throwing my full weight into it with my side. “Ahhh!” A strangled cry tears out of me as agony shoots through my torso. My screwdriver wound is thumping.