That’s what makes it dangerous.
That’s what makeshimdangerous.
My last thought before sleep takes me is that I need to stay alert. Need to stay sharp.
But Elijah’s steady breathing and the ridiculously comfortable bed pull me under, anyway.
My eyes snap open to darkness.
Something’s wrong.
Red drops hit my face. Warm. Wet.
Blood splashes across my face.
“Jake!”
My feet pound against wet concrete. The alley stretches endlessly, getting darker with each step. Jake’s always just ahead, just out of reach.
“Stop! Please!”
Jake turns. His chest blooms red, the stain spreading like spilled wine. Those final moments replaying like a broken record.
“Run, Clara.” His voice echoes. “Run.”
The Raven steps out from the shadows. Black mask gleaming, those blue eyes burning through me. Fifteen years old again, paralyzed, watching my brother fall.
But this time, it’s different.
“Mommy?”
My heart stops.
Elijah stands beside Jake, small hand reaching for his uncle.
No. No, no, no.
“Baby, come here!” I surge forward. My legs won’t move. Concrete turns to quicksand. “Elijah, don’t!”
The Raven extends his hand. That fucking mask tilts, considering my son like a predator eyeing its prey.
“You can’t have him!” I thrash against invisible restraints. “Jake, don’t let him—”
Jake crumples. Blood pools around his body. Elijah steps closer to The Raven.
“Look at me, baby. Look at Mommy!”
Elijah turns. His brown eyes meet mine—Leonid’s eyes. The eyes he got from… him.
“It’s okay, Mommy. We’re training the bad guys, remember?”
The Raven’s hand closes around Elijah’s shoulder.
“NO!”
My scream tears through my throat. I fight harder. Muscles burning, straining. Concrete hardens around my feet.
A door materializes behind them. Steel and ancient, radiating heat. Hell’s gate.
