Not a vision. Not a nightmare. It had been real. All of it had been real.
Luna’s tortured wails a moment ago took on a whole new meaning.
“No.” His voice was nothing more than a wheeze.
The shadows. The snap of her spine. Her blood on the floor.
“No!”
He had to get back. Had to get these off and figure out where he was and get the fuck back to her.
Stone. There was stone beneath him. He called on his power, hoping to wedge some of the rock between himself and the restraints to break them.
Nothing happened.
Taking a deep breath, he sent out his power once more.
Nothing.
He could feel it there, under the surface of his skin. Theweaknessof it. He should’ve been raging his way across Bordoroth at the mere possibility of her being hurt somewhere. Instead, his greater half felt subdued—drugged almost—as if nothing in all the realms could possibly rile him into appearing.
A bead of sweat trickled along his temple and into his hair as he tried again.
And again.
And again.
All to no avail.
Chest squeezing, he bellowed out as he thrashed. The chains only clamped down in response, slicing clean through his skin and hitting bone in some places. His curses echoed strangely inthe confined space while his body struggled, gritting his teeth against the pain.
The only thing keeping him somewhat sane was the knowledge that she was still with him. He could feel her there, pulsating, the faintest beating of her heart alongside his own.
“She’s alive. She’s alive.” He chanted the words over and over, fuel as he strained and pulled and yanked and screamed.
“I’m so sorry, Brandir. That’s really not going to work.”
Brand snapped his head towards the voice, only just realizing it was pitch black around him beyond the glow of his restraints.
The voice from the tower, less overwhelming without its layers. From somewhere else, too. Somewhere muddled and dark. Familiar in ways that confused his mind and body.
He steeled himself against the sickening thud of his heart, even as something within him felt… comforted?
No. No, no, no. Not right. That was his captor. The one who’d harmed his beloved mate.
His eyes strained as they attempted to pierce the gloom, to mark the face of the creature who’d wreaked such devastating havoc. To see the one he was going to destroy.
“Show yourself!”
A long, sad sigh was the only response.
Sharp anger rose to the fore. He fucking hated games. Hated feeling like he was being played with. If he was to go into battle with someone, he wanted to do it while looking straight into their beady fucking eyes.
A silhouette appeared among the fuzzy outer reaches of the chains’ light.
“Where is Luna?”
He was practically begging her to tell him this was all a misunderstanding. That she hadn’t really shattered his mate’s body and left her for dead.
