Someone had been waiting. Planning. Striking at the exact moment when they'd let their guard down.
"How many?" Brynn was moving, reaching for the first thing she found—his shirt, discarded hours ago in their urgent need for each other.
She pulled it on, and his heart clenched.
The black fabric hung loose on her frame, the hem falling to mid-thigh, the shoulders slipping to reveal her collarbone. She looked small in it. Fragile, even with her jaw set in determination.
She looked like his.
And he might be about to lose her.
"All of them." His voice came out rough as the full scope hit him through his connection to the ward network. Every alarm screaming. Every boundary failing. "Every court. Every major barrier between realms."
Her face went pale. He watched understanding dawn in her eyes—that sharp mind he'd come to rely on, cutting straight to the truth.
"Someone used our..." She swallowed. "They used us being distracted. They waited until?—"
She didn't finish. Didn't need to.
Guilt twisted through him.
From the receiving hall beyond, transport circles blazed to life, the formal summons binding all Death Lords for realm-threatening crises. Emergency protocol. Mandatory attendance.
"You're bringing me." She was already moving toward the door, reaching for the ward tools she'd left on his dresser, strapping them to her thigh.
"Protocol says?—"
"Protocol can burn." Her eyes flashed as she met his gaze. "I'm the only one who can read the ward damage patterns accurately. You need me there."
She was right. They both knew it.
But every instinct he possessed screamed against bringing her into a room full of panicked Death Lords when everything was falling apart. Panicked beings made dangerous choices. And she would be the most vulnerable thing in that room.
"Stay close to me," he commanded, shadows already wrapping around her—thicker than usual. Possessive in their need to shield her. "And if I tell you to run?—”
"I won't leave you to face this alone." She stepped closer, and her hand found his chest. Right over his heart, where she'd pressed her palm last night.
The touch burned through him.
"We're stronger together," she said quietly. "Remember?"
The words landed deep, warming places that had been cold for so long. He wanted to pull her back to bed and forget the world was ending. Wanted to keep her safe in his quarters while he dealt with whatever threat was coming.
He couldn't have either. Not when the realms were collapsing.
The transport circle flared crimson—no more time.
He pulled her against him for one brief moment, breathing in her scent. Still carrying traces of him, of them, of what they'd allowed themselves to have. Her heartbeat raced against his ribs. Fast with fear, but unwavering in resolve.
"Together," he said roughly against her hair.
Then they stepped through into chaos.
LXI.
DANTE
The Bone Temple was unraveling.
