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“Dove, you look hot as fuck,” Zane blurts, eyes roaming over me.
“She’s ready for battle, now isn’t the time for you to start leading with your dick,” Brax grumbles, earning a chuckle from Creed and Eldon.
“You’re just jealous you don’t look that hot ready for battle,” Zane retorts, wetting his bottom lip, and I roll my eyes at him.
Black combat pants tucked into black combat boots with a skin-tight long-sleeved t-shirt slipped beneath the waistband. I opt to braid my hair too, taking inspiration from Zane’s sister, but I try to pin the entire length to my head in an intricate design so it won’t get in my way.
Calling upon my sword, it appears in my hand a moment later and I strap it to my waist. No other weapons, no other items of defense except for the necklace around my neck. I run my fingers over it and take another deep breath, then I tuck it away for safekeeping.
I may not be able to bring anyone back from the dead, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my other abilities, and I can still wield the magic gathered in the locket too. Mirror magic is now my bitch if bringing people back from the dead isn’t, and I can’t deny that it feels right…more me. The version that has had to adapt to the ever-changing world around me.
I’m a force to be reckoned with, and Burton isn’t prepared for what’s about to come his way.
Looking over at my Bishops standing before me, it feels strange to call them that now. It was a nickname bestowed upon them before I arrived here, and now that they’re my men, I don’t find it fitting at all. They’re more than Bishops, more than any other piece on a chessboard. They’re not a game piece to be played at someone else’s whim. They’re strong, resilient, and the backbone keeping me up.
They’re each wearing similar outfits to me, black from top to bottom, with fitted long-sleeve t-shirts, combat pants, and boots. They have more weapons attached to their hips in comparison to me, but Zane is right: prepared for war is definitely a hot look.
I store that fact away for another time as I roll my shoulders back, stand tall, and exhale.
I’m ready.
I part my lips, about to say those exact words when a garbled cry softly echoes in the air. My eyebrows pinch and I glance at the others to see if they heard it too. Everyone’s heads whip around when it sounds again, and we start to try and follow it to see what the source is.
Walking along the cliff’s edge away from our house, the guys right beside me, it feels as though the noise is getting louder, and after a few moments, understanding comes into view.
“Holy fuck.” I gasp, gaping at Leila, off the side of the cliff, her back pinned to the jagged rocks. Her arms are wrapped around herself as she sobs, confirming the source of the sound, and I hurry toward her.
“Raven, wait. It could be a trap,” Creed calls out, but it’s too late to question myself because I’m hovering above her, calling out her name.
She cranes her neck, staring up at me with tears streaming down her face. She blinks, and blinks again, her cries softening as she looks from me to my men and back again.
“Raven,” she croaks, tears continuing to flow down her cheeks. “You’re here. Y-you’re not d-dead.”
I try to smile, but I know it doesn’t meet my eyes. “No, I’m not. What’s going on here, Leila?” I ask, and she swipes her hands down her face, a choked snicker tumbling from her lips.
“My father wasn’t too happy with how I used my magic on Grave the second his grandfather’s abilities didn’t render me useless. I didn’t realize he could slow time for everyone in the vicinity.”
“What do you mean?” Brax grunts, folding his arms over his chest.
She’s the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had, so I hate that I do it, but I press my hand to my locket, seeking Lyra’s magic to ensure she gives us nothing but the truth.
“I mean that motherfucker stabbed Raven. Rage coursed through me, and in the next breath you were all gone, and someone had to retaliate.”
“So you decided that person should be you,” Creed states, and she nods.
“Even if he hadn’t hurt Raven, I would have done it. That fucker used me, or tried to at least. The entire time he was working with my father, with him. I’m pretty sure my father made a big fucking deal about me hanging out with him because he knew it would push me to go against his wishes anyway and throw me into the arms of the person he wanted me beside all along.” The tears start again, her pain vibrating from her.
“Is Grave…?”
“No, I didn’t get the opportunity to kill him. My father intercepted me before I could,” she admits, hanging her head in shame, but I’m quite certain the fact that he’s still breathing is a relief because I want to either do it myself or watch one of my men finish him. I deserve the satisfaction of watching him fall.
“Can we help her up?” I ask, unsure how to go about it, but the guys make it look simple as they hoist her up and place her on the grass beside me.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, running her fingers through her hair before exhaling harshly.
“Why did he leave you here like this?”
Her gaze falls to her hands twisted in her lap. “He declared me unsuitable to fight because I refused to stand beside them.” A hysterical chuckle breaks free from her throat as she shakes her head. “He muttered some shit about protecting me too, but felt I needed to be taught a lesson at the same time. Hence the cliff hanging.” Her head sags further with disappointment. “I had been holding out hope that he was under someone else’s control, Raven. Like, silently pleading every moment of every day, and to realize that this is all him…it’s harder to swallow than I expected.”
