His arm’s given out.
“They’re here!” one guard shouts, locking eyes with me, and I know he’s taking them in—etching them into his memory like scripture. The same emerald-green of my mother.
My Lightborne mark and my panic flare in unison.
Fuck.
Before Therion slips over the edge and into the team of guards in the street, Kael’s arm flies out, gripping Therion’s chest plate in his palm.
“I’ve got you, brother,” Kael says between gritted teeth, arms straining under the weight of Therion.
“Move!” Tess bellows, staying low on her belly, dragging herself forward to the next building.
“He’s injured!” one of the guards yells, and I realize Therion’s forearm drips rivulets of blood that cascade onto the street below. “Wound on the left forearm!” the guard notes.
“They’re fucking profiling him,” Kael grunts.
Fuck.
Ronyn’s hand grips Therion’s thigh sheath—he’s leveraging himself by clinging to the chimney with his other hand.
“No one gets left behind,” he breathes through clenched teeth.
Ronyn and Kael heave Therion’s tall frame up, and he cries out in pain.
I’ve never seen him hurt. I’ve never seen him in pain.
It’s unsettling.
Unnerving.
Seren’s face is ghostly pale.
She’s panicking.
“We need to move!” I bellow, urging Tess on, as the guards below plan to surround the building.
“Get to the crimson lanterns,” Tess breathes.
Therion’s eyes are glazed and unfocused. He’s losing consciousness.
“We need to jump across to the next roof,” Tess says, eyeing the gap between buildings. But we’re both thinking the same thing:I don’t know if he can.
“Tarrakai does not like the plan, just for the record,” Ronyn breathes.
“Well, unless he’d like to make an appearance and eat our enemies, tell him to fuck off,” I stab back.
“He’s actually up forthatplan,” Ronyn pants, still clinging to Therion.
Kael doesn’t hesitate.
He shoves Ronyn off him with a growl, then crouches low and hauls Therion bodily across his shoulders. Dead weight, blood-slick armor, axe and all—he lifts him like nothing.
“Hold on,” Kael snarls—not to Therion, who’s half-gone already, but to the rest of us.To me. Because this is about to get reckless.
He runs.
The roof trembles under his boots as he charges across the tiles, and before I can blink, he launches into the gap. He lands hard, shoulders dipping under Therion’s weight, then surges forward again. Another roof. Another leap. Guards below howl, pointing, blades flashing in torchlight, but Kael doesn’t falter. He is a storm, a war given form, carrying his brother as if he were light as a feather.
