“Is she, has she—” Ty could barely get his voice to work. He could feel his anger and his grief spiraling out of control inside him.
“She’s been in and out of consciousness for the last few days,” Lara explained grimly, responding to his incomplete questions. “We gave her a potion for pain-numbing that put her to sleep, and we tended her wounds as best we could, but…she’s not a daemon. She’s not healing as fast as we’re used to. And without access to more witch potions or their magic, I—I don’t know how long until she’s better.”
Ty reached out cautiously to grab her uninjured hand to find that it was cold to the touch. He didn’t know if he should betouching her, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to feel that she was alive.
How could theydothis to her? How couldhehave let this happen? After all the promises he’d made her. After he told her he’d keep her safe. He should never have followed Cole’s orders and gone hunting. He never should have brought her here.
“Ty.” Steig’s voice was tight with anger. “Watch your Power.”
Watch his Power? Ty wanted to laugh, but there was no way in the Underworld he could. He didn’t want to “watch his Power.” He wanted torage.
He looked at Steig to find the man bunching his fists already. Without meaning to, his Power was clearly bleeding out of him, affecting those around him. And he didn’t give two fucks. They should be angry. They should all be as angry and devastated as him.
He felt for that channel leading to Steig, that thread connecting their minds, and he seized it roughly—pouring his emotion through it, feeding it, fueling it, as he watched Steig’s breathing kick up and his chest begin to heave. The man’s face got red and he screamed.
“Ty! Stop!”
But Ty didn’t want to stop.
He reared back and punched the man square in the jaw, Steig’s head flying backward as he was forced back several steps.
The man touched his jaw where the blow had landed, clearly feeling blood inside his mouth. “Fine,” Steig said through gritted teeth, his voice dark and dangerous. “If this is how you want it, let it out. Let it out on me,” he said, waving Ty towards him.
Ty screamed, his rage animalistic as he threw himself at Steig. The two of them became a flurry of fists and blood, rolling together on the fur-covered floor.
But Steig was no easy target—he gave as good as he got, and Ty reveled in it. Every hit he landed, every blow he absorbed,felt like absolution. He wanted it to hurt, he wanted tobehurt. The physical manifestation of his anger felt good—it felt so good because while he was in it, he couldn’t feel or think about anything else. He didn’t have to think about Ena and the way she looked lying on the bed. He didn’t have to think about how monumentally he had fucked up by leaving her alone here. He didn’t have to think about Cole and how he could possibly let the motherfucker live after this.
So instead, he threw punches like his life depended on it. Blow after blow he landed on Steig, sloppy and uncontrolled. Steig kicked him in the gut as he fell back into a chair, breaking it instantly. But he got back up, and launched Steig back into the table, knocking it over with their combined weight.
“Enough!” he heard Lara yell. Then he felt a wave of…something wash over him. Not joy, exactly, but contentment. It wedged itself in between the cracks of the rage in his mind, and it dulled it. It lessened it just enough that he let go of the channel to Steig, breaking the flow of anger between them, and the two of them rolled off one another, collapsing on the ground out of breath.
Lara approached Steig and leaned over him, touching his face in concern. Then she looked at Ty. “That’s enough,” she said, her voice stern but gentle.
The furrow between Steig’s brows softened as he brought his hand up to stroke through her hair, and the look of care the two of them exchanged made Ty’s chest ache.
His eyes were drawn to where his whole heart lay, unmoving on the bed. All his hope and his greatest fears inside one person. One beautiful, fragile witch.
His mind began to calm more now, Lara’s magic having broken his rage spiral, and he began to think logically again.
Would Ena be alright? Her injuries looked bad, but if she’d survived them so far, she would likely live. They just needed to wait for her to wake up and give her time. But even then…
There was another question that haunted him, one that made his heart seize in his chest: Would she forgive him? He couldn’t imagine a world in which she would. Not after he’d broken another promise. Not after he’d let this happen. She would have every right to hate him.
And that thought utterly destroyed him, because he couldn’t imagine a world without her—without them together—not anymore. Before he’d left, he’d been so full of hope, ready to admit his love, and now he knew without a doubt—he was an absolute fool. How had he not learned this lesson by now? Why did he have to learn it again and again and again before it would sink in?
He could never hold on to happiness, to contentment—his Master would never let him.
He dragged his eyes away from where Ena lay to the door, as he rose. He knew what he needed to do. He was filled with such resolve as he moved to leave, but Turner blocked his path.
“Where do you think you’re going, brother?” he asked in that calm, friendly way of his.
“I’m going to fucking kill him. I’ve waited long enough,” Ty replied, his voice calm with the clarity he now felt.
Turner placed his hand on Ty’s chest, stopping him from approaching the door. “I can’t let you do that,” he said, his voice serious.
“Why the fuck not?” Ty asked, but he controlled his rage this time. He needed to save it.
“You know why. You really want to precipitate what happens when he dies?”
