Doesn't matter. She'll get hers whether I'm there to cheer the victory or not.
Laurel's face contorts as the air pressure drops and my ears pop. She raises her hands, and I throw everything I have intomy shield. Spirit fire. Ancestral magic. The power of the standing stones themselves.
The blast comes harder and faster than I thought possible. The collision is deafening. It's an explosion of light and sound and pressure that drives me to my knees.
My shield shatters almost instantly, and the assault hits me square in the chest. I fly backward into one of the standing stones. Something cracks inside me…
My spine… my ribs… I can't be sure.
I slide down, gasping, unable to pull in a breath.
Laurel advances. Her hands glow with lethal intent. Her lips pull back from her teeth. "I'm going to enjoy watching you die at my feet. Such a little brat. You should've stayed lost and forgotten."
I try to summon my magic, but nothing comes.
My vision swims. A hot bloom of blood soaks through my shirt where something sharp has punctured my skin. I can't move… I can't defend myself.
I don't want to die… not when I just got my sisters back.
Violet and Lily's faces flash through my mind. They need me. So does Asher. And Wylder and I have barely gotten started.
Laurel raises her hands for the killing blow, and I meet her gaze. I won't show her fear. I won't give her any more of me than what she's taken.
Vines explode from the earth, launching dirt and pebbles into the air. They wrap around Laurel's ankles and her wrists, yanking her backward. She shrieks, magic flaring as she fights the restraints. But more vines surge up, thick as my wrist, covered in thorns that dig into flesh.
"You always were too confident for your own good." Wylder steps out from behind the far stone, his green eyes cold as winter. "It'll be your end, Laurel."
Shadows pour across the ground like living ink. They coil up Laurel's legs, wrapping around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides. The vines and shadows work together, an intricate dance of two affinities moving in perfect sync.
Rowan materializes from the darkness itself, her gray eyes flecked with amethyst. "You picked the wrong witch to ambush, bitch."
Laurel screams again, thrashing against the restraints. Blood runs where thorns bite deep.
Orion steps into the circle next, his silver-blue eyes fixed on Laurel, his magical energy added to the others, focused on containing his former coven leader.
Warmth floods through me.
Golden light encompasses my body, knitting flesh, mending bone. The agony in my ribs fades to a dull ache. My breathing eases, and I look up to find Asher kneeling beside me, his hands hovering over my injuries, his guardian magic pouring from his palms.
"Hey, baby girl. You okay?"
"Better now." I lean into him, letting his magic finish its work.
I can tell Orion is fighting to hold back his tiger, barely contained violence written in every line of his body. "Say the word, Poppy. Give me the go and I'll rip her throat out and be done with it."
It's tempting. With one command, Laurel Cromwell ceases to exist.
Part of me wants it—wants the satisfaction of watching her pay in blood for everything she's done—but then I look at my friends.
Wylder with his steady presence.
Rowan with her sharp edges and hidden heart.
Asher glowing with divine purpose.
Orion barely holding back his protector instincts.
They'd do it. For me, they'd kill Laurel without hesitation. And that'sexactlywhy I can't ask them to.
