“No.” The word tears from my throat, raw and bloody. Is this Conrad’s doing? Are they his men stepping in, taking control?
I try to get to my feet, to get to her but the pain lances through me, a white-hot spike, driving me back to my knees. My guards are grabbing me, hauling me back from the fray, trying to shield me.
An explosion rocks the corridor outside, a deafening roar that shakes dust from the ceiling. The lights flicker and die, plunging us into a chaos of shadows and screams.
In the half-light, I see her being pulled through the smoke. Her eyes meet mine for a final, searing moment. There is no fear in them now. Only a cold, victorious hatred.
Then she is gone. Swallowed up.
The fight is over as quickly as it began. My guards shove me behind them, their weapons drawn, staring into the dark maw in the wall. I shove them off, the adrenaline a firestorm in my blood, overwhelming the agony in my side.
“Get the fuck off me.” I snarl, using the wall to haul myself upright. The world tilts, but I lock my knees. I am bleeding heavily, I can feel a warm stream tracing a path down my leg inside my trousers but I don’t care.
I storm out of the room and into the main thoroughfare of Oblivion. The explosion has caused panic. People are running, shouting. The air is thick with smoke and confusion. Slaves and clientele alike are running like hell itself has been let loose.
“Grace.” I bellow, my voice echoing off the stone arches. “GRACE.”
She is gone. Taken.
Stolen from me, from my very hands.
Where the fuck is she? Where have they taken her?
I start yelling, hollering, losing what little control I have left. “Where the fuck is my wife?”
As I turn a corner, I come face to face with Magnus Blake of all people.
Whatever words he has to say, I don’t let him speak them. I cross the distance in three lurching steps, and I punch him. It’s a clumsy, blood-weakened blow but it carries all my rage, my betrayal, my pain. It catches him on the jaw, snapping his head back. Before he can recover, I slam him into the wall, my forearm against his throat, my face inches from his.
“Where is she?” I hiss, spitting blood. “Where the fuck is my wife?”
He struggles, his eyes wide with shock and indignation. “What are you talking…”
“I made you Magnus, I can unmake you just as easily.” I spit.
His eyes narrow. He tries to push me back but I’m too strong for him.
“You married her?” He sneers. “When?”
Despite the situation, my lips curl. “Right here.” I reply. “In front of all of you.”
His eyes widen as he realises the full extent of the trick I played. The full fucking ruse all these arseholes fell for.
A wave of pain hits me so hard that I almost double up.
Has he taken her? Is he so fucking bold he decided to pull this stunt and steal her away? Is she locked in some cell somewhere, the way Paitlyn was?
“I know where she is.” Conrad says from behind us.
I turn, spinning on my heel to look at him.
“I mean, I know how they got her out.” He corrects himself.
“Show me.” I bark. “Show me right now.”
I can’t think straight, I can’t fucking calm down.
My legs feel hollow, my body is both in absolute agony and going simultaneously numb as I follow him through the carnage, through one corridor after another until we reach what feels like the very fucking bowels of the earth.
