A shout splits the air, boots thundering across the stone floor. Dante drops Torbin in a defensive stance, his blade flashing up, but there are too many.
I twist, elbowing a guard in the ribs, but another grabs my arm, yanking it behind me. Nadya screams, kicking at the men dragging her back.
Dante’s hand goes immediately for his falchion, eyes widening when he doesn’t find it at his side. He whips his head toward the guards and releases a humming sound but stops immediately, wincing and reaching for his throat.
It’s then that Torbin staggers to his feet.
For a heartbeat, I think he’ll say something.Thank you, maybe. Some flicker of remorse. Some acknowledgment that Dante just pulled him from the fire.
Instead—his lips twist into a cruel smile. “Maybe that will shut you up, Brother.”
I stare in disbelief at Dante’s neck. The gleam of the enchanted collar bites into his skin, its pendant glimmering from the light of the dying flames. My breath lodges in my throat, the world tilting as the truth claws at me: while Dante was pulling Torbin from the fire, while he was saving his life, Torbin slipped the shackle onto him.
Dante claws at the collar, but it doesn’t budge.
Torbin squares his shoulders. “Take them to the dungeon,” he rasps, voice thick with smoke and venom.
My blood ices. “What?”
Dante goes rigid.
Torbin just laughs—a wet, ugly sound. His face is soot-smeared, hisclothes singed, but the hatred in his eyes is untouched.
“You didn’t think saving me would change anything, did you?” He sneers, lifting Dante’s falchion and gazing upon it as if it were a newly acquired treasure. “You’re a fool, Brother.”
The betrayal slices through the air, as jagged and cruel as any blade. He didn’t just bind Dante’s power, he bound his trust, twisting his mercy into a weapon against him.
I see it—see it in the way Dante stares at him, as if Torbin’s words gut him deeper than any wound.
Torbin turns, grabbing Nadya roughly by the arm. She lets out a startled gasp, struggling, but he clamps a hand tightly around her wrist. “She’s coming with me,” he growls. “Can’t have you getting any bright ideas.”
Dante lunges forward, fury breaking through the soot and blood marking him. “Get your hands off her!”
A guard slams an elbow into his ribs. Dante folds with a grunt, falling to one knee. My own cry tears free as I reach for him, but hands clamp around my arms, yanking me back.
“Don’t!” I shout. “Let her go!”
Torbin doesn’t look back. He drags Nadya down the corridor, her feet slipping on the blackened stone, her wide eyes meeting mine one last time before they vanish around the corner.
The ache in my chest expands, sharp and hot. Dante and I are pulled away.
We’re taken through narrow halls, the smell of ash and smoke lingering. My muscles scream with each step, exhaustion dragging at my limbs, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Not while Nadya’s still in Torbin’s grip.
Not while I’m being dragged toward gods-know-what.
ChApter
Fifty-Eight
We reach the lower levels—a damp, dark corridor where the air turns colder and wetter with each step. Moisture drips from the ceiling. The walls here are carved from rough rock, jagged and damp with moss. The only light comes from rusted iron sconces set too far apart, leaving long stretches of darkness that swallow the floor.
The guards throw Dante and me into a cell without ceremony. Iron bars clang shut behind us with a teeth-rattling slam. Chains rattle. A heavy lock clicks into place.
I stumble and catch myself against the wall, panting, my wrists scraped and aching.
Dante is already on his knees, head bowed, one hand pressed to his shoulder.
I crawl to him, heart hammering. “Oh, gods, you’re hurt.”
