BRYNN
She couldn't look away.
Dante was still fighting, shadows tearing through shells by the dozen, but slowing. Blood marked his skin. A cut across his ribs. Another along his shoulder.
A blade got through his defense, slicing across his forearm. Dark ichor welled from the wound.
But he kept moving forward. One step at a time, carving through the army that stood between them. His shadows flickered with each strike, power draining with every shell he destroyed.
He was going to burn through everything he had left trying to reach her. And she was sitting here useless.
The restraints bit into her wrists, metal burning where it touched. She'd fought them until her skin broke, until blood ran down to her hands, but the restraints held.
Caelum stood a few feet away, that twisted ward-tool still in his hand, watching Dante's approach with interest.
"How much longer, Reaper?" His voice carried across the chaos. "How many more of my soldiers will you destroy before you admit you can't win this?"
Dante didn't answer. Just pushed forward another agonizing step.
Five feet.
The shells pressed harder, trying to overwhelm him before he could reach her. A spear grazed his thigh. He didn't even flinch.
Three feet. She could see his face now—blood on his jaw, dark eyes blazing with determination.
Two feet. The army redoubled its assault, but he pushed through like nothing could stop him.
One foot.
His hand shot out, shadows wrapping around her restraints. The metal that had held her helpless, that had burned and cut and suppressed everything she could do.
Power surged through the connection. The restraints resisted for a moment.
Then shattered.
The metal screamed as it broke. The locks holding her wrists exploded into fragments that bit into her skin.
She gasped as her arms fell free. Blood rushed back into her hands, every nerve ending screaming. The burn on her arm throbbed—blistered flesh, angry and raw, where the tool had touched.
His hand closed around her upper arm.
Real. He was real. He'd come for her.
"Can you stand?" His voice was rough, strained.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Her legs trembled as she pushed herself up, but she forced them to hold.
Caelum's expression shifted, benevolent concern giving way to something colder.
"You can't escape, Reaper." His voice remained calm. "You've exhausted yourself fighting through my army. You're bleeding. Weakened. And I have thousands more soldiers waiting."
Shells poured into the chamber from every entrance. Hundreds of them, coordinating to surround them.
Dante's shadows exploded outward anyway, creating a barrier between them and the army—buying seconds.
"Stay behind me."
He positioned himself between her and the shells, shoulders set despite exhaustion, shadows flickering as they struggled to maintain the barrier, blood seeping through his clothes.
