Gone.
She's taken him.
Rhyland
83
The smoke and shadows dissipate, leaving behind that gut-wrenching sensation of being ripped through the fabric of reality. I collapse onto the blacktop, vomiting a pool of blood as my body rejects the unnatural transportation. Every muscle spasms in protest, my vision swimming as I try to orient myself against the nauseating vertigo.
A sleek private jet materializes through my fractured vision. We're on some private tarmac, location unknown. Lilith's talons dig into my bicep, her nails breaking skin as Morgan hovers at my right. I'm a fucking puppet on their strings, my limbs responding to their commands rather than my own.
Dani.Fuck. She's gone. Where her presence once filled every corner of my soul, there's nothing but a raw, bleeding void. Not physical pain—worse. The mate bond—that golden thread connecting our essences—severed, leaving jagged edges where her light once flowed into me. A metaphysical amputation.
I'm a prisoner in my own fucking skin. My mind screams while my body betrays me, muscles obeying Morgan's commands rather than my own. A millennium of power reduced to this—a marionette dancing on a witch's strings.
Every cell strains toward that emptiness where Dani should be, like a phantom limb reaching for what no longer exists. The bond's absence bleeds continuously, a cosmic violation beyond torture.
This fucking witch forced my hand against my own mate—made me use my power to hurt the one person I'm supposed to protect. Watching Dani's body slam backwards, knowing my own abilities caused it... pure fucking torture. My insides turned to acid, bile rising in my throat, but Morgan's magic kept me locked in place like a goddamn puppet. Couldn't even look away as my mate took the hit. Just had to stand there, rage burning through every cell while that psychotic bitch used me as her personal weapon.
The memory makes my fangs descend, murderous fury coursing through my veins. Being forced to hurt Dani—my fierce little warrior—that's the kind of violation that demands blood payment. And when I get free, Morgan will learn exactly what that feels like.
"Come, darling. We have a long flight ahead of us." Lilith yanks me toward the jet like a trophy she's just won.
She shoves me into butter-soft leather seating, rolling her eyes as she snaps at the pilot. "For God's sake, get this thing in the air before I replace you with someone competent."
Once we're airborne, Morgan slides beside me. Inside, I'm a fucking inferno of rage, every cell screaming for blood. The primal beast howls for vengeance, demanding their throats.
"Morgan, darling. I think now is as good a time as any," Lilith examines her manicure with exaggerated boredom. "But first, let my dark prince speak. I'm simply dying to hear what pathetic threats he's managed to cobble together." She smirks cruelly.
Morgan flicks her wrist, releasing my voice.
"You fucking bitch! I'm going to rip your fucking spine out through your throat and—"
Another casual wave, and my vocal cords seize.
Lilith sighs dramatically. "Honestly, is that the best you can do? So predictably primitive. I expected something more... creative from you." She examines her nails again. "Do it. I'm already bored with his caveman routine."
The witch places both hands on my temples. I fight like a caged animal, muscles straining to rupture point. My fangs descend fully, useless without flesh to tear.
She begins chanting, her nails piercing my scalp as I scream silently. My brain feels shredded, ablaze from within.
"Memoria delere... animus purgare... praeteritum eradere..." Morgan's voice rises and falls, each syllable driving white-hot spikes through my skull.
Through the agony, I hear Lilith: "Do remember, darling, to leave the good parts. We need him functional, just... redirected."
What the fuck?
The chanting intensifies. Istrain harder, blood vessels rupturing in my eyes. Suddenly, visions of Dani flood my consciousness—her honey-gold eyes, fierce determination, the way she curls against me in sleep.
Our first meeting. The electric shock of her touch. Her body writhing beneath mine. Her tears, her pleasure, her courage.
The memories unspool backward like film burning, each ripped away, leaving bleeding gaps in my consciousness.
No.Gods no.
The bitch is stripping away my truth, layer by fucking layer. I feel it happening—my heritage dissolving like smoke. Everything I am—son of Magni, grandson of Thor, child of Nyx—ripped from my skull, leaving bleeding gaps they'll fill with lies.
Morgan's magic burns through each memory like acid. Whatever they pour back into these wounds won't be my truth. They're gutting my mind to remake me, and I can't do a fucking thing to stop it.
