Dean rolls her eyes, letting out a mocking laugh. “Oh, I’m terrified. Quaking in my boots.”
Timor grits his teeth. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Leave now, and my warriors might spare you. Surely you don’t want to risk your kingdom over awoman.”
Dean tilts his head like he’s considering. A slow smile spreads across his lips… and he starts backing away.
Wait… what is he doing?
Everything slows. My world tilts as I watch Dean turn on his feet.
No.
My heart drops as he starts walking away.I tighten my grip on his hand, trying to stop him… but he doesn’t.
I blink, but the world stays blurry.
He’s leaving.
I wasn’t expecting him to turn his back on me.
I didn’t realize how much I was relying on him until he showed me why I’m the only one I can count on.
It’s fine. I don’t need him. I’ve always done this alone.
I’ll survive. I always do.
His help would’ve tipped the scales, but I’ve trained endlessly for this moment for a decade. I am more than capable of fighting off every hand that comes for me… with or without Dean.
I’ll die before I let them take me back to Tiberius.
I knew I’d face my past someday, but this… this is worse than I imagined. I hate that somewhere along the way, I started believing my friends would be there for me. I wouldn’t have to do it alone.
But if my own mate won’t stand with me… how can I trust anyone else?
Anxo has been constantly offering to help, but maybe he was only saying what he thought I wanted to hear.
I don’t take my eyes off the Eldoris warriors as they close in, already mapping out where to strike first when out of nowhere Timor makes a choking sound, his hand coming to his throat… then his head drops to the ground with a wet thud.
I stumble back with a gasp, whipping around to find Dean, his shoulders shaking with laughter, his scythe raised proudly… dripping with Timor’s blood.
Dean spins around, eyes bright with excitement. “Please tell me you saw that. I’ve been practicing that move for ages. Did you like it?”
My jaw drops. So it was a trick?
Timor is dead. Just like that.
It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for years, waiting for everything to collapse, but one smile from him steadies my heart.
He didn’t leave. So why does my chest still feel heavy?
I don’t get time to process it. Timor’s warriors snap out of their shock, rage twisting their faces.
And then they attack.
I whistle, my Divine cutting through the chaos, slowing the attackers just enough to draw my daggers.
I stop seeing faces, just hands reaching for me. The instincts I’ve honed over a decade take over, slicing through fear and adrenaline as I eliminate one opponent after another.
A thread of Dean’s dark essence coils around my waist, stepping in to buy me an extra second when a blade lodges too deep and refuses to come out.
