“Hanna!” I roared.
Nothing answered, but the bond jolted at the sound of my voice, a faint answering hiccup of panic and pain. She was conscious. Justbarely.
“Savla?” someone called from another apartment—distantand groggy.I ignored them. The rage riding me didn’t care about courtesy. It didn’t care about rules. It cared aboutone thing.
Find her.
Ribbon slammed into Hanna’s door, croaking viciously. The wards on it were intact. But the scent—herscent—wildflower and herbs and warm skin—was thick in the air.Underneath it was the sharp, bitter tang of restraining spells. And that fuckingcologneagain. I touched the door.
Magic zapped against my palm, testing, measuring and trying to read my intent like a guard dog. My blood surged in response. And the wards recognized me as clan. As a protector. The door unlocked with a reluctant click.
Ribbon barged in first, but the room was empty. I knew it without even looking.
There were no overturned chairs, no shattered glass. Everything was neat and perfectly in place. Her mug was on the table with a book open, face-down. A shawl was draped over the arm of the chair.
The outward picture of calm. But the air…itscreamed.Residual glamor shimmered like heat above asphalt, slippery and silent. My vision went red around the edges.
“They took her,” I said aloud, voice low and lethal. “They took herfrom here.”
Ribbon croaked, furious, slamming his body against the floor over and over like he could break the spell residue by sheer indignation. I strode to the center of the room and closed my eyes.
Fight like an orc, but think like a witch.I forced my breathing into something akin to a slow rhythm, even as the mating rage clawed and thundered inside my ribs.
“Hanna,” I whispered, “where are you?”
The bond flared—then slammed into something hard andslick.
A wall.
Someone had wrapped her in a glamor cocoon—meant to block tracking magic, coven link spells and location charms. But the bond wasn’t a spell. It wasn’t learned. It wasn’t cast. It wasborn. And ancient things have teeth.
I dug in, metaphorically and mystically, hunting along the tether that connected us. It felt choked, strangled, but not severed. Distance fuzzied it, but—there. A direction.
South.Fast.
A car. He was using a car.
Corwin.
The mating rage surged, hungry and focused. He’d laid hands on her. He’d terrorized her and made her voice shake, her body remembering fear it never deserved.
He touched what’smine.
And now he’d taken her frommyhome. From our clan’s protection. My lips peeled back from my teeth in a silent snarl.
“I’m coming,” I whispered into the bond. “Hanna, I swear to every God that’s listening, I’m coming.”
The bond answered with the faintest flicker of relief—so small I might’ve imagined it. But it didn’t matter as I strode toward the door.
I blinked, realizing that someone was standing there. Enka, his eyes wide, his hair a mess and his bare feet braced in the hallway like he’d raced here half-asleep and forgot to grab shoes.
“What happened?” he demanded. “Sav, I felt—It spiked and then—”
“Corwin took her,” I said. No preamble or softening.
His face drained of color. “How—”
“Glamor,” I bit out. “Clever and strong. But not strong enough.”
