Page 37 of The Bound Blood
The corridors blur, sharp turns and steep stairs, the scent of old magic thickening the closer we get.
We round the final bend, and I see it—the outer chamber doors. Lit with a soft, pulsing glow that turns my stomach cold.
Too late.
I stumble to a stop, one hand hitting the stone wall to steady myself. My other hand curls into a fist before slamming hard against the door.
Nothing moves.
“Shit,” I hiss, slamming my palm against it again. “Lindsay?—”
“She’s in there.” Nolan’s voice is tight, hoarse like something inside him already knows. “I can feel it.”
I nod once, jaw clenched.
He steps closer, his hand brushing the edge of the warded door. “They sealed it. I felt the snap just before we turned the corner.”
Magic hums around us, deep and pulsing—like a heartbeat, but wrong. Not hers. Not the tethered kind. It’s colder. Older. Coiled with intent. And I feel it tightening inside me like a noose.
“She’s alone in there.” The words rip out of me like splinters. I press both hands to the door, gritting my teeth. “We were right here.”
“If we were a few seconds sooner,” Nolan says, but his voice is hollow, and he doesn’t believe it any more than I do.
“I should’ve fought harder,” I mutter, my hands sliding down the door. “Should’ve made them kill me first.”
He’s quiet beside me.
I drop to my knees. I don’t know what they’re doing to her. But Ifeelit—like thread pulling from bone.
“They’re hurting her,” I whisper.
Nolan closes his eyes. “I know.”
The runes flash once—brief and bright, like lightning cracking under skin. And something inside that chambershifts.
I freeze. So does he.
He sinks to the ground beside me, one knee braced, his face pale. “If we can’t stop it?—”
“Then we stop what comes next.”
SIXTEEN
LINDSAY
The stone iscold beneath my knees.
I’m in the center of a circle, five robed figures surrounding me, chanting. The air thrums with power, ancient and suffocating. A band of magic lashes out, snapping around my wrist, and a scream tears from my throat as pain explodes through me. Then another finds my other wrist, yanking my arms wide, like they’re trying to tear me apart, one piece at a time.
Tears streak down my cheeks. My bones feel like they’re fracturing under the strain. It’s not just pain—it’s violation. Like they’re reaching inside me, carving something out with their words. Words I can’t even hear anymore over the roar in my ears.
And then—something inside me stirs.
Not mine, not entirely.
Older. Wilder.Angry.
It rises like a tide, cold and unstoppable. The agony vanishes in its wake, swallowed whole. The bindings around my wrists snap, useless now. The chamber trembles beneath me.
