Page 227 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

Rain hated the idea of her following him into danger. She was soft in ways he had never been allowed to be. He would do anything to keep her from the realities of war.

Unease settled between them like a living thing.

“Your Highness?” David’s voice crackled back through the radio, abrupt and urgent.

Rain stepped closer. “What is it?”

David hesitated. “The Red King has asked us to stand down. He said this war is with you—not Grey Territory, not the Blue Kingdom. You, Your Highness.”

Snow stiffened beside him.

Rain wasn’t surprised. He had suspected this from the moment he saw the smoke.

“Did he make any demands?”

David shuffled papers. “He said—and this is a direct quote—‘Tell the whore prince he has one hour to return what is mine,unharmed, or I will publicly end the traitor who shared his bed and his entire family that are here at my mercy.’ Your Highness, you have our full sup—”

The name detonated inside Rain’s skull.

Thunder roared through him. His jaw locked. Every fear he had suppressed surged up in one violent wave.

Time froze.

Then adrenaline slammed into him.

Snow grabbed his wrist, sensing what was coming but Rain jerked away, too fast for her to hold. He burst out of the booth, power erupting around him in a chaotic vibration that sent nearby civilians stumbling, gasping, clutching at each other for balance.

Faces twisted in horror as he stalked past, raw power radiating off him in waves.

All channels were open. He felt everything. Every fear. Every heartbeat. Every scream.

Anger burned through his veins, fuelling every step.

Snow called after him, pleading but he ignored her.

He would not drag her into this.

This was his battle.

His friend.

His responsibility.

His debt to repay.

Rain tore across the tarmac, the world streaking past in a smear of colour and motion. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat syncing with the pounding of his feet as he sprinted over the car park, across the bridge spanning the river, and into the dense wooded boundary at the base of the mountain. Smoke curled through the trees in thick, choking plumes, swallowing the landscape in a suffocating haze.

He didn’t slow.

His powers surged ahead of him like hunting instincts made tangible; mapping every tree trunk, every jutting rock, every shifting body of energy hidden in the smoke. Sight became irrelevant. Smell, useless. He was all instinct, all predator, all purpose.

The smoke clawed at his lungs, burning with every breath, but he barely registered the coughing fits that tore from his throat. Let them hear him. Let them know he was coming. Let dread be the last thing they felt.

Halfway up the mountain, a wave of sensation slammed into him so hard he stumbled.

Jay.

Alive. Terrified. Surrounded.