Shadows exploded from my palms like unleashed hounds. They immediately surged back toward me, wrapping around Ari's wrists with crushing force. He cried out in shock and pain, his grip loosening as the shadows yanked his arms away from my body. Another tendril of darkness shot forward like a striking serpent and wrapped around the blade of Alanna's sword, wrenching it from her grasp with such force she stumbled forward.
I didn't wait to see what happened next.
I broke away from Ari and ran as fast as my trembling legs could carry me toward the shimmering portal. My bare feet pounded against the packed earth, and I could hear shouts of fury erupting behind me—soldiers mobilizing, the queen screaming orders.
"Joy!" Ari's snarl cut through the chaos.
But I wasn't listening. This was my only chance—my one shot at freedom, at survival, at getting home. If I hesitated even for a heartbeat, I was dead.
The cathedral door burst open with a crash that echoed across the bayou, and a figure came racing toward the portal from the other side.
Enzo.
My heart stopped then restarted with painful intensity. He was alive. He was alive. Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly buckled mid-stride. The torture hadn’t broken me. The fear hadn’t killed me. The certainty I’d never see him again hadn’t destroyed me. But this—there he was, running toward me like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world.
Tears blurred my vision, hot and desperate, streaming down my cheeks as I pushed my exhausted body harder.
Move Move Move
Adrenaline pushed back the pain. If I slowed, I was dead. My lungs burned, my muscles screamed, but none of it mattered. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.
I could see his face now—bloodied, fierce, beautiful—and the possessive emotion blazing in his eyes as he closed the distance between us.
Someone was right behind me, getting closer and closer with every pounding stride. I could feel the hot breath on the back of my neck, hear the rasp of armor and the promise of violence. My lungs burned, my legs screamed, but terror drove me forward. So close—the portal was so close?—
A hand grasped at the back of my dress, fingers catching in the gauze fabric.
Enzo snarled—a sound of pure, primal fury. He turned into a blur of supernatural speed, crossing the remaining distance in a heartbeat. His arm shot out and caught my pursuer's wrist with bone-crushing force, wrenching it away from me with a sickening crack.
Then I was suddenly airborne, scooped into strong arms and pressed against a hard, familiar chest. The scent of him—blood and bayou water and something uniquely Enzo—filled my senses and broke something inside me.
"I've got you." His arms crushed me against him, fierce and desperate. "I've got you, Joy. You're safe."
“You’re alive.” The words came out choked, barely coherent through my sobs. I wrapped my arms around his neck with desperate strength and buried my face against his shoulder, breathing him in. My whole body shook with sobs I couldn't control—relief, terror, exhaustion, and overwhelming gratitude all crashing over me at once. He was real.
He was solid. He washere.
Not a dream or hallucination born from torture and despair.
"I'm hard to kill." His arms tightened around me like he'd never let go, like he was trying to absorb me into himself where nothing could ever hurt me again.
I winced involuntarily as intense pain from my shredded back flared white hot where his arm pressed against the wounds. The movement was small, but he caught it immediately.
He looked down at me, his expression shifting from relief to concern in a heartbeat. "What's wrong?" His eyes darkened then turned blood red—that terrifying crimson that meant the predator was fully awake and hunting. His voice dropped to something dangerous and cold. "Did they hurt you?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm here." I tried to keep my voice steady, but it trembled anyway. Being back in his arms, being safe—that was all that mattered.
But Enzo studied my face with laser focus, taking in every detail—the bruising on my cheek that had darkened to purple black, the split lip, the exhaustion etched into every line. His jaw clenched. "Who hit you?" Each word came out clipped, controlled, barely containing the volcanic rage building beneath.
"The queen—" I started.
"Is dead." The pronouncement was flat, absolute like an executioner's promise. His eyes blazed with cold fury as he gently set me down against an oak tree, his hands lingering protectively on my arms. "She's fucking dead, Joy. I'll make sure of it."
The lethal certainty in his voice should have frightened me, but instead it made me feel safer than I had in days.
He gently pushed my hair back behind my ear. “Stay here. Use your shadows to protect yourself. I won’t lose you again.”
His lips came crashing down on mine with desperate intensity—fierce, claiming, and achingly tender all at once. Thiswasn't just a kiss; it was a promise, a declaration, a vow that we'd survived the impossible and found our way back to each other. The kiss tasted of salt from my tears, of blood and bayou water, of everything we'd endured and refused to let destroy us.
