Page 16

"Liar."

In my mind, Sully gave a massive, definitive sniff. “Definitely keeping her.”

Ignoring the Dragon King, I forced my Texas Ranger brain into overdrive and past the sudden, dizzying internal chaos. I needed facts. I needed parameters. I needed to understand the mechanics of the invisible cage we were trapped in before the next wave of creepy crawlies slithered out of the shadows.

Turning my head slightly, I looked right at Maisie and asked, "What did you see when you touched me?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden transition from brooding soldier to clinical investigator. Straightening to her full height of about five-foot-three, her expression turned serious as she tapped the tip of her index finger to her temple. "My Alicorn Sight," she explained, gesturing vaguely around her own eyes. "It’s... a DNA thing. I don't fully understand how it works. All I know is that in this case, when your hand clamped onto my wrist, your aura flared, but underneath the bronze scales, there was this oily, jet-black thread extending from that tattoo…”

“Hellmark.”

“Yeah, that.” She nodded. “It reacted to my Magic like a vampire hitting sunlight."

I absorbed the information. My mind felt like it was running the hundred-yard dash trying to come up with answers. "Can you tell who made it? Where the other end connects?"

Maisie sighed, a flash of frustration crossing her features as she shook her head. "No. I can expose it, but I can't decode it. I don't know who’s holding the leash, and I don't know the exact Spellwork whoever placed it there used to tie it to you." She paused, closing her eyes for a brief second to concentrate. A faint shimmer of Alicorn Magic stretched out toward the dark, thrumming frequency of the Hellmark.

When she opened her eyes and looked directly at me, I asked, "Can you follow it?"

"Sort of," Maisie admitted, her voice dropping into a quiet, unsettling register. "I can see the leash, Knox. I just can't see who’s holding it."

Her stark words hung in the frigid air. For a long, quiet beat, neither of us spoke. The wind moaned through the jagged canyons of the Chihuahuan Desert, carrying the faint scent of dry sage and ozone.

My gaze drifted downward, settling on the pale wrist Maisie was unconsciously rubbing– the exact spot where my heavy, calloused hand had clamped down on her earlier. A sudden, unfamiliar pang of regret tightened my chest.

I reached my hand toward her. My fingers hovered in the space between us before I caught myself and froze.

Pulling my hand back, my voice dropped into a quiet, raspy register. "Did I hurt you?"

Maisie looked shocked. Her gaze went to her wrist, then back up at me, a small, tentative smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Only my pride." She let out a soft, amused breath. "And possibly my delicate feminine sensibilities."

My eyes swept over her. I took in the black hoodie covered in charcoal dust, the dark jeans stained with desert sand and paint, the rugged houndstooth Doc Martens, and the pure, unadulterated Texas attitude radiating from her entire posture.

One of my dark eyebrows shot up of its own volition. "You have those?"

Maisie grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "No. But I've heard stories."

The brief, lighter note between us evaporated instantly as the Hellmark pulsed again.

This time, the yank was stronger... way stronger. The ghostly tether tightened around my soul like a hydraulic press, the old, dark summoning sensation flooding my consciousness. I automatically braced, my knees flexing as my muscles locked against the sudden, external pull.

I didn't move. I didn't obey.

Deep within my mind, Sullevan threw back his massive head, a terrifying roar of absolute defiance ripping through our shared soul. “WE BOW TO NO ONE!”

I forced the summoning back into the dark, my internal voice answering with a century's worth of built-up fury. “Not. Ever. Again.”

I didn't need to relive Mammon’s torture chambers to remember what freedom meant. A century of scars was enough of a reminder. The simple act of refusing to obey was enough to anchor me to the Earth.

But while I was fighting my internal battle, Maisie cried out, "Knox, look at the Wards!"

Somehow the tether shooting out of the Hellmark on my arm didn't just pull. It extended, the black thread flying across the empty space and slamming directly into the glowing purple geometry of the barrier.

Then… something inside the ancient Wards responded.

The purple light didn't reject the tether. Instead, beneath the heavy layers of the defensive Magic, I suddenly sensed a frequency that made every drop of my blood run hot.

Dragon Magic.