Beautiful.
Terrifying.
“Yes,” he whispered. “And I’m trying to find a way to beyourmonster.”
Something inside me cracked open.
“How did you know about the letter?”
“Through the bond, how else?”
But before I could answer?—
A distant thud echoed in the fortress.
A shout.
A Draxon’s roar… two Draxon to be exact.
Trent’s head snapped toward the door, expression darkening into the predator he tried to bury. “I guess they woke up. Seems they’re stronger than I gave them credit for.”
I stood.
“I’m sorry, little Bellator, but they’re not part of my plan.”
That word sparked a memory, but it was gone before I could hold on to it.
Cold stone touched my cheek.
My eyes snapped open.
For one breath, I didn’t know where the hell I was.
Then everything slammed back at once?—
Trent. Shadows. A hand over my mouth. The world tearing sideways.
I sat up too fast, head spinning. My wrists were bound by thin metallic cuffs that hummed faintly—null cuffs. They didn’t tighten, didn’t bruise, but they swallowed my abilities whole.
Tanya was slumped beside me, still unconscious, Razor and Malik on either side of her, wrists cuffed to the same black stone table I was.
Torches flickered along walls that looked carved from the rare shimmering stone used only in ancient ruling halls—silver flecks of crushed crystal rippling through the surface like starlight trapped in rock. High-tech and archaic at the same time.
My heart hammered.
Shadow-travel. He used shadow-travel on all of us.
That ability wasn’t normal.
It was far from ordinary.
It wasn’t even supposed to exist outside myth.
Only Kratos and the old royal Factions were believed to hold it. Oren mentioned it to us one night while we were relaxing together.
I swallowed hard.
Trent wasn’t just skilled. He wasn’t just powerful. He had Lilibet-era abilities.
