“Hey—” the standing guard turns?—
Too late.
A blur slams into him from behind.
Kier.
My first look at him is the impression of wild eyes, bared teeth, and hands wrapped around a man’s throat as he drives him backward into the stone.
He’s magnificent.
The second guard lunges for Kier, but I’m already moving. I land a blow with the shard to his temple, drilling it through his skull. He goes down like a sack of bricks.
I don’t stop to check if he’s dead.
Kier’s guard is down, and the door to my cell is open. I sprint out, skidding to a stop as I find Kier locked in a brutal tangle with Bob. They tumble through the corridor, both of them snarling like the wolves they are despite the silver suppressing their shifts. Another guard lies motionless on the floor nearby.
Bob has a knife—silver, from the way it glints—and he’s trying to drive it into Kier’s chest. Kier holds his wrist, muscles straining against the poison in his system.
I grab the fallen guard’s stun baton and lunge forward, driving it into Bob’s side. Electricity crackles, and he convulses, his grip on the knife faltering. Kier wrenches it away and plunges it into Bob’s throat without hesitation.
Blood sprays across the corridor as Bob drops, eyes widewith shock. Kier stands over him, breathing heavily, silver restraints still in place but eyes burning with wild triumph.
For the first time, I truly see him.
What remains of his shirt hangs in tatters, revealing an expanse of scarred chest and lean muscle beneath layers of grime and dried blood. He wears worn jeans, bloodstained and filthy, his feet bare.
Three years of captivity have left their mark—old silver burns snake across his ribs, knife wounds crisscross his shoulders, and newer bruises bloom purple against pale skin. His face is all sharp angles and high cheekbones. He has a strong jaw covered in dark stubble, and a strong nose that looks like it’s been broken at least a few times. His hair falls past his shoulders in tangled waves, once black but now streaked with strands of premature silver that catch the dim light. But it’s his eyes that hold me—amber gold, almost luminous, with a fierce intelligence behind them.
This is the man who’s been my lifeline for days, whose voice and touch kept me sane in the darkness. Seeing him now feels surreal, like a hallucination made flesh.
He studies me too, his intense gaze taking in every detail. Something shifts in his expression—surprise, recognition, something deeper I can’t name. For a heartbeat, we simply stare at each other, the chaos around us momentarily forgotten.
“You’re real,” he whispers, so quietly I almost miss it. His hand starts to rise toward my face, fingers trembling slightly, as if he needs that physical proof to believe what his eyes are telling him. But at the last moment, he hesitates, pulling back.
I catch his wrist before he can retreat completely, guiding his palm to my cheek. His skin is rough, calloused, warm against mine.
“I told you,” I murmur, leaning into his touch.
The contact sends a shock through me—not painful, but electric, like every nerve ending has suddenly come alive. Mybreath catches in my throat, and something low in my belly tightens with unexpected heat. His thumb traces the line of my cheekbone, and I have to fight the urge to close my eyes and sink into the sensation. It’s been so long since anyone touched me with gentleness instead of violence.
His breath catches, and for a moment the world narrows to just this—his hand on my face, the wonder in his amber eyes, the electric current that seems to arc between us. My pulse begins to race and my skin flushes.
What is happening?
Kier’s gaze sparks with amusement, burning with wild triumph. He pulls back, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.
“Nice timing,” he says.
“Nice moves,” I reply, my voice slightly rougher than intended as I turn down the corridor. “Now, let’s get out of here.”
Chapter
Ten
KIER
She’s not at all how I imagined.
