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He had one hand in his pocket while other combed through his hair, and his Shadowflame seemed even darker against his pale skin. He casually strolled closer, as if he wasn’t a deadly weapon.

She saw it on him now in ways she had never before. Cruelty he wore so effortlessly. So casually. As though he wasn’t destroying her entire world.

Oliver had warned her not to trust him. Obryn had told her to keep her distance. Ben had said he would break her heart. She knew he would, but she had never imagined it would feel this way. This shattering.

Wielders were cunning, and he had fooled her, told her what she wanted to hear, made her feel seen and understood when nobody else seemed to. It had all been a lie.

“I knew you would destroy the amulet for me,” he said with a sharp smile.

She felt so hollow, she wasn’t sure if she could even speak. If there was anything left to say. Or do. The magic in her drained.

Part of her still held on to the increasingly fading hope that this was all an elaborate scheme, that she couldn’t have been this wrong about him.

She was getting smaller and smaller while he seemed to loom increasingly larger over her. Her nails dug into her arm, but she barely felt it. She was numb.

“I have to say,” he continued, “I wasn’t sure if you could pull it off with your petulant reluctance to use your own magic, let alone Dark Magic. But I knew you’d do it…for me.”

She waited for a sign from him that this was all a ruse, but his features only hardened further.

“I just needed you to destroy the amulet, but…” He caught his lower lip suggestively. “The rest was a rather pleasant bonus.”

“Please, stop,” she managed to say, feeling like the life was slowly being drained from her.

“It wasn’t easy to find the right person for the task. Especially since I needed a healer who would understand enthrallment. And then I came across your file.” The Shadowflame on his hand danced wickedly. “You were just who I was looking for. A healer. Broken from the war. Hiding in Yharvan. And so lonely. I knew I could corrupt someone like you. I just hadn’t imagined it would be quite so easy.”

She wanted to use a silencing spell so she didn’t have to listen to his words anymore, feeling them slice through her heart viciously. But she had barely any magic left.

Two of the most powerful Wielders in history had her cornered like an injured animal. She knew one thing: She couldn’t be the one who gave Rakkley back Synth.

The door was locked, and the magic gate was blocked by Rakkley, so her only option was the windows. She didn’t know how far the fall was. Perhaps there was a roof she could climb down? But as the two of them moved in closer, the sliver of blue sky seemed like a better alternative than to be the reason Synth returned. She’d rather die trying than give in without a fight.

Aidric’s silver eyes narrowed. He knew her too well. But his dark shadows, meant to contain her, bounced off her.

Seeing genuine emotion on his masklike face was rare, but now there was a flicker of surprise. Just for the briefest moment, his eyes widened.

Then she bolted for the window. Aidric ran right behind her. As she grabbed the window, his arms seized her, pulling her away with force. She kicked and tried to free herself from his grip, but he didn’t let go. She screamed for help, hoping someone, anyone, would hear her.

“Scream all you want,” he whispered in her ear. “I have this room silenced.”

She tried desperately to free herself, but no amount of kicking and screaming made a difference. If anything, the lock his muscles had around her only tightened. He was obviously stronger than her, but the way he viciously and effectively pulled her arms behind her back and secured her wrists with one hand showed that their interactions before had been play fighting. This time he meant it.

“This would have been decidedly easier had you not used whatever little shield invention this is,” he hissed between sharp teeth.

She called for her magic, but it was hard to even summon enough for a white spell. She tried anyway, and a spell that should have pushed him back didn’t even make him flinch.

“Let me go,” she begged Dawson helplessly, on the off chance that he had an ounce of humanity left in him. “Please, just let me go.”

He smiled and his breath hit her neck. “I do love it when you beg so prettily.”

She hated that it was his voice. His voice. The grip on her arms she could ignore, could pretend it was someone else doing all of this to her. But she couldn’t ignore his voice, and each word he spoke seemed to cut her further.

Tears blurred her vision. Her entire body trembled with fear.

“Bring her to me,” Rakkley ordered, and his soldier obeyed.

Dawson moved her with him, walking closer to the sickly creature in the corner. Rakkley’s eyes focused on her. He had won.

The last thing she would hear would be his wheezing breath behind his mask.